


Din

by nursehelena



Series: We Are on Fire [2]
Category: Metalocalypse
Genre: BDSM, BDSM - Pushing Limits, Bondage and Discipline, Chastity Device, Dom/sub, Forced Feminization, Humiliation, Impact Play, M/M, Master/Slave, Orgasm Control, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Prostate Milking
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-04-11
Updated: 2014-05-24
Packaged: 2018-01-18 23:47:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 63,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1447399
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nursehelena/pseuds/nursehelena
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>With basic trust necessary established in a Dom/sub relationship, Skwisgaar’s ready to push his position beneath Toki even further.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Alpha

**Author's Note:**

> This is the sequel to Not Who I Thought, although I don’t really think you need to read/reread it to figure out what’s going on here. You’d catch on pretty quick.

“Skwisgaar, ares you watching?”

Seated at the picnic table, the blond squinted into the darkness. The sun set an hour or so ago, leaving them in lamplight on Mordhaus' lush lawns. Toki—his silhouette, more accurately—marched about with Baldur right on his heels. “I's trying. Come closer.”

“Checks this out.” Baldur jogged along, tongue hanging out and attention focused on Toki. Whenever the Norwegian altered his path, no matter how sharply a degree, the wolf too adjusted. “So that's what we's been learning in obedience class.”

“Dat's pretty cools.” Maybe now Baldur would think twice before jumping up onto Skwisgaar's bed. It wasn't so bad when the wolf remained puppy white; at least then, his shedding wasn't so visible. Grey now, the only reason Skwisgaar allowed Baldur in his room at all was because Toki brought him there. Oh well—need to make rid of the fur created a new job position amongst the klokateers.

Immediately and without instruction, Baldur sat as Toki stopped before Skwisgaar. “Why don'ts you talk much tonight?”

Skwisgaar managed a reassuring smile. “I hasn't figureds dis out quites yet, so I don'ts know what to say.”

“Is something goings on?”

Skwisgaar stood with a shake of his head. Coming outside should've distracted him, but somehow the anxious bundle nesting in his chest sent his fingertips into a tremble. Months passed since he last experienced such strife. He of course recognized the familiar dissatisfaction that came before he and Toki's arrangement. _Was_ something wrong, for him to feel this way again? Skwisgaar might've thought so, if it addled him when receiving the treatment he so desperately craved.

Leaned against the inside of Toki's bedroom door, Skwisgaar chewed his lip. Normally the ability to express his needs came so easily. He didn't consider himself a complex creature, especially in relation to the Norwegian. The different aspects of their relationship could be cleanly divided; they still hung out as friends, then as play partners, then as occasional lovers. Sometimes two or all could overlap, but those distinctions remained.

Toki pat the bed beside him. “Sit.”

Loose threads tightened against the spool as Toki gently fingered his hair. Maybe Skwisgaar should sleep on it one more time before opening this conversation. If left unfinished when they separated for the night, neither of them would feel satisfaction.

“I can tell you not happy, Skwis. And it gots to does with me, otherwise you woulds has breezed it off right when we meets up.”

“I amn'ts _unhappy_ , just t'inking. Is hard to put to words. But I tries.” The mere possibility of his latest yearning coming to fruition tortured Skwisgaar endlessly. “You remembers when you last cane me?”

Toki nodded.

“I still can'ts describe it, but I _can_ tells you what happen.” Skwisgaar pulled one leg up on the bed so that he could better face Toki. “For a briefs moment, I lost my identities. Word don'ts do it justice, so I hopes you can appreskate dat for what it am.”

The Norwegian's eyebrows arched in concern. “Ares you telling me I _dids_ go too far?”

“No.” Skwisgaar would've said so, and he certainly wouldn't have allowed that degree of dominance again if he felt he couldn't trust the younger man. “It was a goods t'ing, whats I need more of. I woulds like to try having somet'ing what happen all de time.”

“Nots just a thing we gets together to does once in a while?”

Skwisgaar shook his head. “We gots a good t'ing right now, goods balance, but I wants to know what you t'ink about beings more involved, dat way. I don'ts mean like letting dis spills out of de bedroom or beings all showy abouts it, but if dere am somet'ing goings on in de background of us regular lives.”

“Depends. You sayings a lot without tellings me what you asking for.”

“I wants more than to subs for you. I wants you to own me.” Negative connotation surrounded that concept, hindering Skwisgaar in accepting such a truth for himself. On one hand, he possessed such a strong sense of self, one that he willed not be compromised or taken away. On the other, he trusted Toki to support that. Giving himself completely to another person didn't entail being locked away in the subterranean bowels of their grand home, after all. Toki wouldn't forego his sense of practicality, nor would his attentive and kind-hearted nature fly out the window with such control over a human being.

“That's a big thing to says.” A grunt of effort landed Skwisgaar in Toki's lap. The Swede's thigh muscles relaxed by their own accord as the younger man slipped a hand between. “There are things we gots to consider. It still remain true thats we constantly in the public eye. We lives with other peoples, and I respects them all enough not to risk makings them uncomfortable. I hesitates to make anything we does the permanent way because we changes on what we needs and what we wants. We's tried that with not sleepings together, and we hads to force it to keeps that rule in place. Then we was happies to get rid of it.”

Skwisgaar sighed. “Ja, you ams right.”

“Hey, don'ts get down about it.” Toki comforted him with a jostle. “It don'ts mean we can'ts do something like what you needs. There's a pretty bigs middle ground there. Whats you gots in mind?”

“I gots one t'ing what I never wrotes down on my list. Since we was doings t'ing more cashwalls back den, it wasn'ts exacklies possible. Whats would you t'ink about takings control of my orgasms?” Skwisgaar no longer invited others into his bed, but still possessed a choice over when and how he masturbated. Growing need for submission trumped even the compulsion toward release.

Judging by the grip further climbing Skwisgaar's inner thigh, Toki liked the idea. A teasing glint manifested in his eye. “You woulds give me _complete_ controls over that?”

“Ja.”

“No matters what? Evens if I didn'ts want you to cums at _all?_ ” The Norwegian's face lit up with a confirming nod. “Wells then. First order of business is thats you nots allowed to jack offs unless Toki gives to you permission. You cans ask whenever, but I makes the decision.”

“Okays.” With that in place, the tension in Skwisgaar's shoulders melted away. It appeased his curiosity regarding relinquishing all personal rights to the younger man in exchange for ownership. Considering his reservations toward prospective slavery, perhaps easing into it was a good idea. If he and Toki ever decided to sustain that shift, Skwisgaar needed to be absolutely sure he could handle it. Once that occurred, he could forget about safe words, the concept of 'no', and general lack of his own thoughts. Before Toki became the voice inside his head, they needed further experience with one another. Handing over his sexuality constituted a suitable test; if Skwisgaar could handle this, he could handle _anything_.

Toki pushed Skwisgaar's hair back over his shoulder and lowered his mouth to the paler neck. “ _Du er min lilla ting?_ ”

An untucked shirt and hand freely roaming Skwisgaar's chest indicated so. “Mhm.”

“I hopes you know,” Toki murmured in his ear, “just because _you_ aren'ts allowed to cum right now doesn't mean _I_ gots to hold out.”

“Whats you want me to do?” The prospect of giving himself up again eliminated the final strains of anxiety tugging at Skwisgaar.

“Takes you clothes off, for starters. I wants to look at you.”

The Swede's feet chilled against the concrete floors, belt buckle clinking when it connected. A light spring breeze coming in through the cracked window sent goosebumps down Skwisgaar's back as a greedy gaze washed over him. No matter how regularly Toki saw him naked, their most recent agreement altered the atmosphere. Skwisgaar no longer possessed any of this, where sexual touch was concerned. While he regarded his ass and cock as Toki's even while expending them for his own pleasure, he now viewed those events as borrowed entertainment. How shameful, that he'd abused himself so easily over the years. He'd made his body sick, worn it out, and casually threw its worth away as he jumped into a pile of faceless women. Truly, he needed something like this much sooner in his life. He needed order, restraint, and guidance.

“You almost looks innocent, when you nakeds.” Toki's shirt joined the pile of clothes beside his bookshelf. His roaming gaze—hectic as his imagination—already introduced a bulge in his jeans. “There isn'ts a thing about you body what I don'ts love, you knows. When I's alone I thinks about how tights you ass are or how goods you are with you mouths, but there's other things it do what drive me crazy. I loves how you spine move when I fuckings you from behind, how you holds onto me when you blows me. I woulds be lying if I say I didn'ts look at you sometime and feel deeps down that I _do_ owns all of you.”

Toki pulled Skwisgaar closer by his cock, eliciting a sharp pain and corresponding intake of breath. “Quit it. You body's mine, I does whatever I wants with it. Now apolgesize.”

“I'm sorry.” No stranger to abuse directed at that part of his body, Skwisgaar was merely caught by surprise. Throbbing ache contributed to his erection.

“Good boy. Come heres, and stay quiets.”

Skwisgaar's nails bit into Toki's shoulders as he straddled his hips. The stress Toki implemented against his body birthed aches in his knees, although nothing compared to what came from a bite to his nipple. Friction between them aided a full feeling in rushing him along toward a tangible end; unfortunately, the Norwegian correctly interpreted his widespread tremble.

Toki slid his cock between Skwisgaar's cheeks and chuckled as the older man's thighs tensed. “Nice try. You asks for this, so behave.”

Skwisgaar maintained the roll of his hips. “Don'ts mean you can'ts fuck me, does it?”

“You just wants a dick in your ass.”

True; even without the option to cum, Skwisgaar wouldn't let his involuntary reactions taint Toki's experience. Rejoining their bodies called for extreme self-control. As the younger man got closer, nails bit into the Swede's hips and teeth clipped his bottom lip. Somehow, Toki kept enough of a head about the entire situation to realize he needed to pull out again to keep Skwisgaar from passing the point of no return. Every nerve tingled regardless, as Toki pushed the Swede's cheeks together around himself. Skwisgaar reached back to help, in order to make up for his teetering arousal.

“ _Gå raskere._ ” Toki's stubby fingers pressed into flushed thighs.

While the blond wound up again with a fountain of profanity aimed at his ear, hot spurts of cum against the small of his back resulted in yet another edge. Aches in his legs accentuated his cringe as Toki teased him with a gentle grasp and light run of his thumb over the frenulum.

“You dids good,” he said. “A part of me didn'ts think you'd be ables to hold off.”

“Amn'ts my decision, is it?” Even this small amount of attention to Skwisgaar's aching core brought forth a sigh of relief. That ended short when Toki nudged his hip.

“Lays down. I decides if you gets to cum after I cleans up.”

Here came the real challenge. After wiping down to avoid dirtying Toki's bed, the Swede folded his fingers together over his stomach and avoided the throbbing need weighing on his lower abdomen. How paradoxical, that being forced to wait only added to the excitement. When he relied solely on himself to stretch out this period of anticipation, the choice of relieving the ache cheapened all the effort toward reaching this point. The word _chattel_ reemerged in his mind; with it came a twitch and resultant sigh.

Toki snatched his jeans off the floor and jumped back into them under the Swede's watchful gaze. Sitting cross-legged on the bed with his back to the wall, he opened Skwisgaar's legs to examine the unspent damage. “I still not sure if I goings to let you. I takes my time about it.”

All Skwisgaar could do was nod. He rarely experienced the weird, prickly feeling between his legs, but knew immediately what it was.

“I wants you to tells me why you wants me to haves control over this, when you woulds obviously be jackings off right now if I didn't. It hurts, doesn'ts it?”

“Is wort' it, in de end.”

Toki rested his palm over Skwisgaar's sack. “I still hasn't really figureds out why you likes to get hurt so much. I wouldn'ts has expect it from you before we starts doing this together. You never seems to like even beings uncomfortable. Always bitchings about this or that. . .”

“Is just good to gives up control, once in a whiles. I likes when I cans just floats away in my mind because I don'ts got to worry dat you goes too far.”

“I still learnings you limits.” To prove that, a slap resonated through Skwisgaar's already-aching balls. The sharp sound bouncing off the walls further jolted the blond. “Whatever it is you gots about this, you draggings _me_ into it pretty easily.”

By their own accord, Skwisgaar's hands slipped beneath his back. The mingled discomfort of tight, dry strokes, the squeeze and pinch of his most sensitive areas, and demeaning narrative made it incredibly difficult not to make a noise. Every time something escaped Skwisgaar's throat, Toki shushed him again. This shouldn't work. Pain should hurt—and it did—but a constant line of _please please please_ streamed effortlessly through his mind. A flat-palmed slap cleared way for more-than-familiar alleviation.

Any semblance of conscientiousness lifted from Skwisgaar's mind. Here he laid on his back, a mere animal, his legs open to the whims of a less than kind creature. And he _loved it_. He wanted complete restraint on his movement, to lose his senses again. In the simultaneously forced and long-awaited orgasm, all he consisted of was a wash of euphoria. A lazy grin through rapid breath marked the newly quiet nature of his psyche.

“ _There's_ the man whats I know.” Toki wriggled himself into the space between Skwisgaar and the wall. Propped up on an elbow, he watched the receding flush on the older man's chest. “Now tells me more about what it means for you to be hurts.”

Before he had the chance to retreat beneath the blankets by his own volition, Toki already ushered him to shift this way and that. Pressing up against another body always did the trick. “Getting horts am just a powerfuls way to gives t'ing up. It ams overwhelming, and when you overwhelmed, you mind stop working in some ways. Is more abouts trusting someone dan anyt'ing. I don'ts walks around wanting peoples to punch me in de face. Real pain amn'ts on my list of t'ing to like.”

“I gets what you say when you puts it like that, but I can'ts imagine liking being hurt.”

“Ams okay, nots everyone do.”

“I means it, Skwis. Is a hard, hard limits, for me. I don'ts need to try it to knows that.”

Skwisgaar rubbed Toki's hip. “You nevers got to worry about it, den.”

“I's _almost_ curious, because you likes it so much, but it wouldn'ts be the same.” Toki rested his lips against the Swede's damp brow. “And that's okay, right? Just because we does different thing when we fuck don'ts mean we gots to do everything?”

“We does only what we want. I makes dis clear: evens if I brings up doing t'ing you don't want, you shouldn'ts ever agrees to it just to makes me happy. I can'ts respeck you limit if _you_ can't, because how I knows de difference?”

“Kinds of like when I tries out whipping you to see if I was okays with it?”

“Exacklies. No matter what I wanteds, you didn'ts want to does it, so it stop there until you becomes comfkable.”

“I still gets a little nervous, sometime,” Toki quietly admitted. “Evens though I know it's importants to you, and that you likes it. I comes back to the idea that I shouldn'ts be a person what likes to hurt you. Not when I cares about you.”

“You has never gones too far wit' me. T'inks about de times what I calleds red. You stops, right?”

Toki nodded. “Ja, but I mean. . .you know whats I think about it beings relate to. Evens if it don'ts _really_ hurt you, evens if I takes care of you and I givings you what you want. . .is this normal? Is it rights?”

Skwisgaar lifted his head to make eye contact. “People used to say t'ing like dis was a mental illness, now dey say it healt'y. In your case, it ams your decision. If it make you happy and relax, den it am good. If it don't, it am bad. You amn'ts just doing dis for me, ams you?”

“I likes it when it happening, and I feels good. I likes the power, and I likes how I takes care of you with it. Is cool, how much you trusts me. Is just when I thinks about it at time like this that I gets a little unsure.”

“You understands it don't makes you a bad porson, rights?”

Another nod.

“De t'ing about being sadistic in somet'ing like dis is dat it amn'ts _real_ sadism.” The clumsiness in how Skwisgaar entwined his fingers through Toki's proved how often they did such a thing. “Does you ever _really_ wants to hort me?”

“I used to, when you was a big fat jerk.”

“Shore,” Skwisgaar easily accepted, “but I means now. Would you hits me to make me scared?”

“No.”

“I wants you to t'ink about it dis way: dere am people what hads a shitty time growings up, and dere am people whats like doing t'ing like we do. Dey amn'ts always de same people. Some people whats had a crappy childhood grow ups not having interest in BDSM, and some people wit' good childhoods grow up to like it. If dere am a correlation, it ams a weak one. You just happens to find youself here. While de t'ing what happen to us have influence on de porson we becomes, it don'ts determine everyt'ing for us. If you ams worried you repeats de abuse, dat am a good sign you amn't. People who repeats de abuse usually don'ts care enough to control it. All dey wants am to finds a porson or an animal or a kids or what has you dat dey can puts t'rough what _dey_ hads. You don'ts really want to hort me. You saids it youself, you likes how it make me feels good, you likes how I trust you, you likes how we am close for it. How ams dat any different from what people who only has vanilla sex wants?”

“I guess it really isn'ts.” Toki's brow smoothed out as he sighed. “I likes that you talk with me abouts this. I wants to be good for you, to makes you feel good, and that counts, right?”

“It means everyt'ing,” Skwisgaar confirmed. “It ams all de difference.”

Toki lightly kissed the bridge of Skwisgaar's nose. “But it's really okay, right? You aren'ts just telling me this so that I don't feels bad?”

“If I was in some kinds of danger and I lieds to get more of it, how woulds dat make sense? I don'ts _really_ want you to hort me. If you ever hitteds me outside of dis, I woulds be pretty pissed.”

“I don'ts ask because I thinks you're lying,” Toki clarified. “I just likes how you make sense, how you always sound so smart.”

“Is good you brings it up, if you amn'ts feeling a hundred porcents.”

“How _you_ feelings, anyway? Sore?”

“Not'ings I can't handle.” A ghost of discomfort existed between Skwisgaar's legs, but the wash of relief alleviated it for the most part. “I t'inks I might hit de hays, though. I don't sleeps well on de Dethkopter, so I nots gonna get much rest tomorrow night.”

Toki relinquished his grip, allowing the Swede to sit up on the edge of his bed and reach for his pants. The darkly lit room led Skwisgaar to believe he'd snatched up his own shirt. Even with the presence of sleeves, he pulled his hair through the collar and pat Toki on the knee. “Sees you tomorrow.” 


	2. Seoul

Even with a full night's rest and a hearty breakfast, Skwisgaar yawned as he headed up the Dethkopter's ramp at quarter to six the next evening. He didn't expect to see anyone else here this early except Charles, although Pickles too slumped down on one of the small recreation room's couches.

“Evening, Skwisgaar. Take a seat.”

“Ams we having a meeting?” Skwisgaar dropped down opposite the drummer, Thunderhorse finding familiar purchase in his lap.

“Not exactly. I just wanted to speak with you all before you, ah. . .started drinking for the night.”

“Well dood, yer alreddy too late.” Pickles raised his beer to the manager.

Ignoring that, Charles left to remind the rest of the band of their impending departure time. The drummer tossed another beer across the way upon Skwisgaar's request, then as Nathan, Murderface, and finally Toki joined their numbers, the popping and subsequent click of tabs hitting the floor offered no window for Charles to find them absolutely sober.

“What do you want?” Nathan asked. “Go, talk. I already have to work tomorrow, so I don't have all the time in the world.”

Charles cleared his throat. “I just wanted to remind you all that this is the last show you're scheduled to play until about this time next year. When we return, you need to get serious in the studio. It's been almost five months since I first brought up the album to you, and you still have nothing to show for it. If Crystal Mountain wants to release it in the spring, that means the deadline is going to be around—”

“They'll get the album when they get it.”

“They have a business to run, Nathan—”

“They're not about to fuck with us for something as stupid as that, even if that fucking asshole is running the place,” Nathan referred to Damien. “He's dumb, but not _that_ dumb.”

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. “Good day, then.”

While Pickles, Nathan, and Murderface littered the floor with emptied bottles, Toki curled up on the couch next to the drummer. Skwisgaar tapered off after a handful of beers, pleasantly relaxed but sober enough for his fingers to maintain their usual speed and precision. They moved by their own accord as he snuck glances out of the corner of his eye at the other guitarist.

How could someone that'd gone through _half_ the shit Toki dealt with appear so peaceful in slumber? Too many nights when he first returned from Magnus' grasp did Skwisgaar sit up with him, watching stupid videos on the internet or just palling around until Toki felt distracted and relaxed enough to sleep. Of course, they never explicitly stated that intention; mutual respect toward obscuring Skwisgaar's compassion and Toki's unsettlement provided a suitable mask. Skwisgaar merely landed in Toki's company after all the sluts returned to their stable and second wind pushed his prospective bedtime further toward dawn. How did he go from palling around with Toki to consciously ensuring his days ended on a happy note? Granted, developing an attraction based on lust and then acting on it was a much greater leap.

Did Toki still have difficulty sleeping? The Norwegian never said anything, but sometimes Skwisgaar suspected that another body joining him under the covers wasn't on a whim. Toki came with chills too uncharacteristic of the season that ushered winter away. The urge to ask blurred with fatigue in the middle of the night, and disappeared by morning. There never seemed an appropriate time to ask, anyway; when Toki was happy, Skwisgaar didn't want to wreck that, and when something weighed on his mind, Skwisgaar would rather distract him with a blow job. It worked, so laud the system, right?

What all entailed, now that the two of them became so involved? The sex was easy in its own right, since Skwisgaar practiced it for over fifteen years. All he needed to do was tell Toki how he liked it and trust in the results. The longer this went on though, the more constantly they needed to redefine their relationship. Even if Toki held power over how and when Skwisgaar got off, it didn't veto the need for solace. How stupid and awkward would Skwisgaar sound though, to bring that up? Not to mention, doing so might help Toki realize that for all he shared with Skwisgaar, he didn't receive much in kind. Ugh, the thought of confiding how downright _weird_ his childhood was caused the Swede's stomach to roll. Then again, Toki managed to choke out infinitely worse instances of abuse. Didn't Skwisgaar owe Toki something, by logic?

But he never asked, so why would Skwisgaar volunteer such information? No, wait, that wasn't true. Toki _did_ ask, in his naive youth, and Skwisgaar just lied. _We were poor, my mom's a whore, and that's all you need to know._ Simple.

“Dood, tern on the TV. It's jest about time fer the Dethklok Minute.”

Hold on, hold on. . .” Nathan fumbled with the remote. “Does it matter what time zone we're in?”

“Schtop, there it isch!”

“—Big day for Dethklok fans everywhere, as the sun rises over South Korea. Already, the death toll runs in the hundreds as fans trample each other on their way to where Seoul's Olympic Stadium was flattened in order to make room for the boys. According to a statement made by band manager Charles Offdensen in a press conference this afternoon, the gang's next concert will promote the new album! No comment on a timeframe, but if that doesn't mean soon, then we all might need to tighten our belts in preparation for a sleepy economy.

“Moving onto the boys themselves. . .” Skwisgaar zoned out while the host ran through Pickles and Nathan's latest preoccupations, then turned Murderface down for a high-five when the bassist got a mention. His gaze flicked back up to the television when his own name was said. “. . .still no mention on a special lady in the Lothario's life, although we can confirm that Skwigelf's constant parade of women through Mordhaus has ended! Loosen your lips, Skwisgaar—when does the world get to meet her?”

“Pfft,” Skwisgaar scoffed. “Turns dat crap off.”

“Hey Toki, hey.” Nathan directed at the still-sleeping rhythm guitarist. “Wake up, you made it on the Dethklok Minute this time.”

“Just lets him sleep.” The blond narrowed his eyes at Pickles and Murderface as they subsided into stifled laughter. “Goes on den, gets it all out of your systems.”

Nathan informing Skwisgaar the rest of the band knew about him and Toki remained the extent of the conversation. True to their words, Nathan, Murderface, and Pickles truly didn't care, and Skwisgaar and Toki aimed to keep it that way. The other guys caring could only manifest in two ways: either they ostracized and teased the living shit out of them, or their sensitivity bordered on inappropriate interest.

“Scho you and Toki, huh?” Murderface popped another beer cap on his teeth. “How doesch that even work? I mean, do you guysch hmrmhhm or do you _hmrmhhm?_ ”

“Ugh, fucks off. Weirdo creeps,” Skwisgaar added under his breath with a shudder.

“It'sch not creepy! I'm juscht. . .curiousch!”

“Goes be curious by youself, how about? Gross.”

Murderface threw his beer. “You can't be curiousch about _anything_ around here without being called creepy! You're all scho repressched it killsch me, even _you_ , and you're gay!”

“ _Pfft_ , I amn'ts gay. _You's_ gay,” Skwisgaar countered. “If I tells you what me and Toki does you sneak off saying you gots business to attend to and den you t'inks about it and pull your you-know-whats! I amn't conkribute to dat!”

“God, do you _really?_ ” Nathan narrowed his eyes at Murderface.

“Look who'sch talking, _you're_ gay too.”

“I already made it _very clear_ to you that I'm not. Do we need to go through this again?”

Murderface flinched when Nathan raised a fist. “Fuck you asschholesch! If you all want to be fagsch, then go right ahead! I'm taking the taxzchi down to Schtraighttown—!”

“Whats is all this yellings?” Toki rubbed his eyes. “What you so mads about?”

“—And none of you are invited, not even _you_.” Murderface pointed at the Norwegian. On his exit, he flipped them all off over his shoulder.

“Dood, why's he think _I'm_ gay?” Pickles scratched his head.

“You was in that bands, forever agos.” Toki sat up. “Is that really whats he freaking out abouts?”

“He was beings creepy. _Pfft_.” Skwisgaar rolled his eyes. “Asking quetskin about t'ing like what we. . .uhh, ja.”

Just as Skwisgaar expected, awkwardness laid a blanket over the room's occupants. Fucking Murderface, why did he have to bring it up, anyway? Could he really not control himself? The bassist storming from the room after accusing everyone of homosexuality wasn't exactly new, though. Taking that in stride, Skwisgaar shrugged and returned to his scales. The others followed his lead; Toki took control of the television remote while Nathan and Pickles freshened their beers. Given enough time, amiability replaced discomfort.

“Probably about time we practiced, huh?” Nathan pointed at the klokateer. “You, go find Murderface. Tell him to quit being a fucking baby and meet us in the back.”

Usually, the deep annoyance that accompanied not being near another person connoted a boner to kill, for Skwisgaar. Headbanging along with the rest of them as their music dimmed the lights curtailed it to the point of bearability, but that stupid anxiety like he experienced the night before reemerged as a distinct variety. Unconsciously, he moved across their makeshift stage to stand as close to Toki as possible without getting in the way. The last time they played a show, Skwisgaar could care less; he got drunk with the guys, went through the motions of preparation and the subsequent performance, and chose a group of women over the younger man post-concert. Now, a handful of months later, he'd already skipped out on overconsumption, and the thought of fucking anyone but the one he concentrated on failed to provoke one iota of interest. At least he could handle the show. That's all that _really_ mattered.

When they'd landed in the designated area near the Seoul stage and time pressed them to get ready, Skwisgaar immediately sought relief. “Let's me do it, ja?”

Toki hesitated with the white foundation sponge against his cheek. “You sure?”

“ _Pfft_.” Skwisgaar slid back onto the countertop. “Come here.”

Although it wouldn't matter if Toki got corpse paint in his hair given the show's prospective special effects, Skwisgaar secured it at the back of his head. Toki kept his hands to himself to mind the other guys, only making things worse for the Swede.

“ _Jag har velat röra dig hela dagen._ ” Skwisgaar maintained a straight face to further obscure the fondness behind his words. Toki said nothing, although his tightened cheeks suppressed a grin. The rest of the band filtered out one by one, not taking the care that Skwisgaar did, and when Pickles finally departed, Toki rested his hands on Skwisgaar's thighs.

“You beens pretty quiet again. Is that why?”

Skwisgaar nodded. This turbulence defied explanation. It had nothing to do with last night—or did it? A need to belong, to belong _to_ , was so overwhelming. He needed to get a grip on himself and _fast_. Whatever he experienced, he refused to let it fuck up the band or this show. “I guess I amn'ts used to us not beings able to runs off whenever we feels like it, and dat was a pretties long flight. I don'ts know. Ams de best t'ing I cans figure.”

Toki gently squeezed his legs. “Whats you doing after the show?”

“Honestlies, ams probably just going to comes onto you untils you cave.”

Toki laughed. “I's games.”

After a quick glance around to make sure no paparazzi or band members were in vicinity, Skwisgaar drew Toki closer by hooking his heels. Some of the corpse paint transferred over to his face as their noses rubbed, then dried where breath landed in spurts. What Skwisgaar wouldn't do for enough time to thoroughly entangle his fingers in Toki's hair. However, their professional lives awaited, pushing the Swede to hurriedly finish the younger man's paint so that he could requite the chore. Guitars slung on, they joined their bassist, frontman, and drummer in listening to the crowd chant their collective name. Even with earplugs in, the swell couldn't be missed as Pickles counted them in and the walls fell.

Skwisgaar didn't expect the show's effects to kick in so soon; a flock of drained birds plummeted from above during the first song, pelting numerous people in the audience. The moon became obscured by thick, congealed, red clouds. The first drop hit Skwisgaar on the arm, the next on his face. Not meant to bear such weight, the sky relinquished. Only between songs could Skwisgaar wipe away the blood rain that trickled relentlessly toward his eyes. The effect had better be fucking mind-blowing for the fans, because he would definitely turn this idea down if it came up again at a band meeting. He shouldn't need to worry about slipping.

Once he became more confident in his footing, Skwisgaar advanced to the front of the stage with Toki, flanking Nathan. Not since the disaster of an Ice Festival in Lillehammer did Toki request the entire spotlight, but he still liked to be included; Nathan departed for water as the two of them launched into the reworked solo, Murderface taking rhythm. Even weaving in and out with riffs and lines more suitable toward a lead guitar, Toki instinctually supported Skwisgaar. Here and there their fingerwork became indistinguishable, then their respective parts would dramatically diverge before colliding once again. Hypnotized just as effectively as the crowd, Skwisgaar put his fingers into autopilot as he flicked his hair back and glanced at the other man. Toki told him once that he made the same face during a solo as in the moment before he came, and now more than ever could Skwisgaar reciprocate the sentiment. It wasn't a furrowed brow and parted lips that drew a stare, but hair stringy and darkened by blood, corpse paint sliding down Toki's face, and a snarl that Skwisgaar easily recalled from memory. The muscles in his arms bulged to keep up musically, emphasized by an equally soaked shirt.

Nathan's imposing figure separating them snapped Skwisgaar back to the show. Like Toki, he shifted away in order to finish the song off. No matter what distance between them, their synchronization obliterated it. Skwisgaar forgot how powerful that could be, when they united as the world's two fastest and talented practitioners of their craft. Now that the show came to its inevitable close, he regretted how long it would be until they shared a stage like this again.

“Give me that towel.” Nathan snatched one from the nearest klokateer. “Fuck, I can't get this metallic taste out of my mouth.”

“Gross,” Pickles commented as he stepped aside to dodge a glob of bloody spit. “Aim the other wee, Nate.”

“I need a schower, then I need to get painted by naked ladiesch,” Murderface stated. Not bothering with the towels, the only distinguishable feature through a healthy layer of bird blood were his eyes. “What'sch there to do in Schouth Korea? I wanna go fucking crazschy before we have to go home and schtart recording.”

“You'll, ah, have to wait until the rain lets up.” Charles shook some droplets off his umbrella. Even then, the wind had marred his suit with dark spots. “Good show, boys. We completely sold out on merch.”

“Isch that all you care about, the numbersch?” Murderface narrowed his eyes. “Find usch schome schlutsch!”

“I already took the liberty. They're waiting further backstage for you.”

“Awesome,” Nathan said. “I'm gonna pick about six or seven to take in the shower with me.”

“Yeeuh, me too! Come on Skwisgare, let's go pick some out before _Murderfeece_ lays claim on all of 'em, heh.”

“Actuallies. . .” Skwisgaar glanced at Toki, who towelled as much of the blood as possible from his hair. “I's gonna pass.”

“ _Whet?_ But dood!”

“Juscht schut up, Picklesch.” Murderface elbowed him. “Maybe now I'll actually _get_ schome pusschy!”

Once they got dick deep in some sluts, the other guys wouldn't care _who'd_ gone along. While they went one way, Skwisgaar followed Toki in the other, back to the Dethkopter. This brand of silence from the Norwegian always meant something good; as a result, Skwisgaar's jitteriness piqued when Toki's extended hand collided with his chest to stop him.

The rhythm guitarist looked him over with a smirk. “Ons your knees.”

“Here?” They were out of sight, although Skwisgaar wouldn't exactly count this as privacy. A slap hard enough to offset his balance simultaneously ended his deliberation and sent all of his own thoughts from his mind.

“You knows better than to questions me.” A hand weighed on the top of Skwisgaar's head. “Down.”

Automatically, the Swede sat on his heels and folded his fingers together behind his back. While unzipping his fly, Toki nudged Skwisgaar with his boot. “Ups against the wall.”

Assuming a blow job was in order, the blond earned another admonishment as he leaned forward to take it. For priding himself on his ability to read the Norwegian's needs, Skwisgaar wasn't exactly shaping up this time. A chuckle from the other man made him feel a little better; maybe Toki intentionally fucked with him.

Fingers ran through Skwisgaar's hair, tugging at the caked strands. “Opens up.”

The Swede couldn't care less that Toki hadn't hit the shower yet. Between sweat, the ghost of blood, and the brunet's natural taste, heat pooled toward Skwisgaar's centre. To worsen his need, Toki's grip on his head tightened as he held it in place. All the energy from the show caught up to Skwisgaar as one gigantic wave. Even if Toki _didn't_ look like he'd just returned from the butcher, he could fuck his face all night, if he wanted.

“ _Se på meg_.” When Skwisgaar obeyed, Toki wrenched the blond's head back and forth to make up for a slackening effort in his hips. “ _Du ser bra ut, dekket i blod._ ”

If Skwisgaar could, he'd return the compliment. He'd never seen such an accurate representation of Toki's most feral side. To think, the best thing to come before _this_ was the nonchalant clean-up following when Toki _killed_ a man in Los Angeles—

Rather than deter Skwisgaar, that only made his blood pump harder. This man was capable of _murder_. Whatever his current compromising position, Skwisgaar experienced no fear. Toki had the opportunity to choke him to death, if he so chose. He could beat and bite Skwisgaar until his own blood mingled with that which already covered him. Toki _could_ lose control of himself, and sure, maybe on occasion he crept a toe or two across boundaries, but Skwisgaar never feared the same fate as anyone that fell prey to the cloud of death surrounding the younger man. He was too important, too treasured.

“ _God gutt_.” Toki's head tilted back, and Skwisgaar's scalp stung in the resultant grip. “ _Svelget._ ”

Vented aggression deflated the Norwegian. When their gazes met again as Toki tucked himself back into his pants, wide eyes replaced the previous leer. He smiled and helped Skwisgaar to his feet. “Come ons, lets get cleaned up and I'll takes care of you.”


	3. Out

A shared shower washed the blood from Toki and Skwisgaar's bodies, but they skipped the fresh clothes set out by klokateers in lieu of the bathtub. Although sick of water and a prune to boot, Skwisgaar sat patiently as Toki washed his hair over and over again in attempt to rid it of a red tinge.

“At least we learns one thing from all this.” Toki lathered his head again, seated on the edge with his feet in. “You shouldn'ts ever dye you hair. It don'ts look right.”

“ _Pff_. Maybes not red.”

“I wouldn'ts even recognize you if you wasn'ts blond, I don'ts think.”

“No, I nevers going to dyes it again. I dids once, and I learns my lesson.”

“What colour?”

“Black.”

Toki's fingers slowed. “Why?”

“I was a little stupids, when I young. Dere was dis black metals band I really wanteds to play in when I forst gots to Göteburg. Well, I didn'ts _really_ wants to play wit' dem, but I neededs exposure and money, so dat was de fastest way to do both. T'oughts it would piss my mom off, too—”

The muffled treble of a Dethphone echoed through the bathroom. They'd buried their respective devices beneath their clothes after the last drunk call from their bandmates. When the phone cut off, headed for voicemail, Skwisgaar received a nudge to the shoulder. “Goes on.”

“I dyeds my hair to gets more credibilities wit' dis band, which was a stupids t'ing to do. I wasn't wit' dem more dan two week, and it took overs two year before I coulds cut de frieds part off where I'd bleached de fuck out of it.”

Toki chuckled. “Sucks, but I woulds kill to see you with black hair.”

“Why? It just mades me look pale and sick.”

“Ja, woulds be funny.”

“ _Pff_.” One of their phones went off again, silencing the conversation. When the other joined in, Skwisgaar leaned back between Toki's legs and tilted his head up with an inviting smile. Nearly-dry hair tickled his shoulders, the rougher fu manchu doing the same to his cheekbones. Laughter tripped them up as the first phone rang again. Further ignoring it, Skwisgaar took Toki's bottom lip between his, eliciting a groan as the younger man rested a hand on earlier's bruises. Hopefully the older man's throat didn't darken _too_ much, from the Norwegian's powerful grasp.

“Okays, that startings to get stupid,” Toki said when the phone went off again. “Maybes is important?”

“Ja, if de consistencies of vampire jizz ams riding on anot'er bet,” Skwisgaar referred to Murderface's last call with a roll of his eyes. “Just leaves it.”

“Well. . .” Toki immediately turned solemn upon checking his phone. “Uh oh.”

“Whats?” Skwisgaar sought a decent temperature from the tap in order to rinse his hair for the final time.

“They's all from Charles.”

“He ams probably just lookings for us. Ot'erwise, he woulds has come find us, if he got anyt'ing important to say.”

Skwisgaar's phone rang then. Since he bowed his head and shampoo ran over his face, Toki sought it out to answer for him. “Uhh. . .is your mom.”

What the hell did _she_ want? “Just hits de Ignore button.”

The treble cut off. Skwisgaar reached blindly for a towel, and after wiping all the water from his eyes saw that Toki thumbed through his phone with a furrowed brow. “She's half your missed calls.”

“She can go sucks it. Probably is alreadies and just butt dials me, _pff_.” The very idea that his mother thought about him long enough to call even once instantly soured Skwisgaar's stomach. He enjoyed the latest silence between them far too much.

Toki's phone didn't have the chance to complete one ring before he answered it. “Hallo? Ja, we's both here. On the Dethkopter. Don'ts—? Why?”

“Whats is dat about?”

“We gots to go see Charles.” Toki pulled on his jeans after ending the call. “It don't sounds good. He wouldn'ts tell me nothing, but said not to turns on the TV.”

Dread froze the Swede. “He didn'ts tell you not'ing at all?”

“I's a little scared, not gonna lie. I thinks I know what it is, but I hopes I just being paranoid.”

Skwisgaar too, now. When did Charles _ever_ advise they spare themselves of the media? Not wanting to wait, the blond checked his phone after hurriedly dressing. He'd received no text messages, nor any calls beside those from Charles, his mother, and a small number from the other guys earlier in the night. Any website he tried to visit returned an error message. Were they out of data range, or did their unspoken suspicion deserve some traction?

“. . .I'm going to meet them now. Yes. We'll be back in about fifteen, sixteen hours, once I round up the other boys. Do me a favour and hold all my calls until then, Grace. There's nothing I can do in the air, anyway.” The manager crossed their paths in the recreation room. “I've got to go, now. I'll see you States-side.”

Nervous, Skwisgaar ran his fingers through unbrushed hair. Usually his guitar preoccupied him well enough, but he'd rather not delay this in order to go find it; Charles' hesitation already did him in.

“There's no delicate way to put this, so I'm just going to tell you: you're out.” Having already braced himself to hear that, Skwisgaar experienced no reaction beyond another wash of anxiety through his chest and stomach. “Take a seat.”

Whenever he and Toki discussed their—relationship, or whatever it was—they pointedly avoided discussing the possibility of it breaching public knowledge. Coming out like that simply wasn't on their agenda. As result, they agreed not to take risks or interact outside Mordhaus any differently than they used to. . .so what went wrong? Did _they_ go wrong, earlier? The knots in Skwisgaar's stomach tightened, compelling him to press his tongue against the top of his mouth. Sudden nausea never ended well, even if denial kept this from truly sinking in.

“6219, play back the original footage,” Charles requested of his personal assistant. He stood before the Scandinavians, arms crossed. “You owe thanks primarily to Murderface, although Nathan and Pickles had helping hands. They were too drunk to properly handle the situation, but. . .that's no excuse.”

Dim lights and club music forced Skwisgaar to squint at the television. Whoever recorded this did one hell of a shitty job. The camera panned about, stopping and focusing on Dethklok's American members. Nathan and Pickles both had women in their laps wielding shot glasses, while Murderface refilled his own. They'd already declined into their usual disinterest at the extended microphone. “—but where are your guitarists tonight? Didn't they come out with you?”

The women giggled, then Nathan cleared his throat. “I dunno, they must've wound up somewhere else—”

“Yeah, _schomewhere elsche_ , like fucking each other.” Murderface slammed his shot glass down against the table. “Ow! Why'd you kick me, Picklesch?”

“Dood, _shuddup_.”

“What do you mean by that?” The reporter's breathlessness narrowed Skwisgaar's eyes in annoyance. “Are they really?”

“No—”

“ _Yesch_ ,” Murderface stated over Nathan. “What'sch the big deal? It'sch metal. If it waschn't metal, they wouldn't do it.”

“Murderface, please contain yourself.”

“What're you gonna do, tell Charlesch on me?”

“Yeah, actually.” Nathan dug his phone out.

“Peoples are really takings this seriously?” Toki spoke up.

“I don't think anyone did at first, then. . .” Charles pinched the bridge of his nose as Pickles' uneasiness manifested in darting eyes and stilted speech: “I'onno, I mean. . .if they wanted people to know, they'd tell'm themselves, reet?”

“How this mean anyt'ing? I don'ts get it. We always calling each ot'er gay in publics. What make dis different?”

“The boys' discomfort comes off as them hiding something. Then of course, Skwisgaar, the nature of your stable entered the conversation—not _this_ conversation, but the one held by the media at large. I've racked my brain for a way to circumvent this fallout, but it's not possible. The media was already searching frantically for whomever it is that compelled you to shut your stable down, and they ran with this.

“We don't have to discuss this now, if you two don't want. I understand this all comes as a shock, whether or not you'd entertained the possibility. It's a long flight back—take the time to let it sink in, and then we'll tackle it at home.”

He left them then, to expedite locating the other half of their band. For all the scandals Skwisgaar found himself a part of, he still had no idea how to handle them. Booze, for one, although he shook his head when a klokateer offered him some. It might be best that his stomach remain empty.

At least this time, he needn't face it alone. “What's you t'ink?”

“I's gonna kill Moidaface, for one. Others than that, I gots no idea.”

Skwisgaar slouched down on the couch, gently rubbing his stomach in hopes that might calm it. After everything he and Toki did together, after all the negotiations and unarticulated regard, the entire situation summoned nostalgia of sitting in a bathtub with bite marks all over his neck, hugging his legs to exhibit some semblance of modesty. The Norwegian seemed just as far away now, just as untouchable. Should they have ever done this? If they discussed then the possibility of the _entire_ world learning about their evolved friendship, would they have bothered? Did the risks outweigh the reward? Skwisgaar wanted to say no, but this fucked up _everything_. The fantasy of a private life shattered, just like that. Even though no one realized the _extent_ of their activities, that quelled no sense of being stripped down and bared for the dogs. Rather than sit next to Toki in silent thrill of what they'd accomplished together, Skwisgaar felt like half a pair of dumb kids.

The characteristic slump of stress bent Toki's posture. Limp hands dangled between his knees. For everything they shared, so much remained unspoken. If they chose to address the questions of such a demanding public, what would they tell them? _How_ could they tell them, when they hadn't even figured it out themselves?

Skwisgaar ran his fingers gently back and forth over the ridges of muscle in Toki's back. Even with a shirt blocking view, Skwisgaar mentally mapped out the location of every scar Toki suffered. How could he sacrifice such intimate knowledge of another person? How _would_ he, if need arose? Fuck it—something like this couldn't force him to give up what made him happy. He attempted to convey that to the younger man when their eyes met, although a reassuring smile fought him the whole way.

Toki mirrored Skwisgaar's slouch with a sigh, ending the contact. “I'm sorries about this.”

“Why? You didn'ts do anyt'ing.”

“I just ams. This _sucks_.”

“I don'ts want to deals wit' dis eithers. And I don'ts want to sees de ot'er guys right now. Evens if dey am drunk and don'ts know what dey dids yet. Let's get outs of here.”

Humid air and a strong waft of shampoo hit Skwisgaar as they headed toward the front of the Dethkopter. What he wouldn't give to regain how trouble-free this night started. His nerves jolted when his phone rang again. One glance at his mother's number was all he needed to hit Ignore. Was this why she tried to get into contact with him? What the hell did _she_ have to say? Probably just wanted to know the truth, and figured her standing as one of Dethklok's estranged mothers earned her that privilege. Too bad. If Skwisgaar and Toki opted to share anything about their personal lives with the world, she wouldn't know anymore than anyone else, and not a second sooner.

Skwisgaar rarely visited his room on here, since he never slept on board and the loud whirring of rotors broke his concentration when attempting to practice his guitar. The Norwegian strolled past him inside, arms tightly crossed. Where did they even start, in figuring this out?

“Well?”

“I honestlies don't even wants to t'ink about it, right now.”

“Me neither,” Toki replied. “The way I sees it, we gots fifteen hours to pretend like it never happened. We can stays away from the TV and turns the internet off on our phones, if you want.”

“De internet don'ts matter. I t'ink dis broke it.”

A scoff disrupted the sombre air enough to allow laughter. However short-lived, however quiet, even the smallest bit eased Skwisgaar's writhing insides. Outside attention on their private life forced the Swede to see it from that perspective too; in that regard, he couldn't believe the things he'd let Toki do to him, or the things he'd done in kind. That too was funny because, for all anyone could assume, some things would _always_ remain a secret.

As if to reinforce that, Toki offered Skwisgaar little warning before hoisting him off the floor and entwining his fingers beneath his backside. The churning sea inside the Swede's stomach flipped for an entirely different reason—a welcome distraction. “For how tall you ares, you aren'ts very heavy.”

“Not to you, maybes.” Arms wrapping around Toki's neck had little if anything to do with a fear of falling.

“Skwis. . .” One flicker of the younger man's smile indicated the anxiety hiding behind it. Whatever he struggled to say, Skwisgaar cut him short. If it bore importance, or simply couldn't wait, Toki would angle his face away to discourage the Swede. Instead, Toki carefully moved them, feeling for the bed with his foot as he went. Skwisgaar trusted to let go of the Norwegian when released; while this resembled the rarest form they came together in, it also presented the most necessary.

Sharing the top of the cultural food chain slanted their perspective and prevented a marriage of their private and public personas. Did Toki believe he untucked the shirt of someone he regularly touched, or did he see an impermeable man that would skitter away for pride's sake? Skwisgaar steered him toward the former best he could, arching his back into the lips and tentative tongue that made their way up from his bellybutton. Toki needed to keep in mind that while both those versions of him existed, the two of them only came together in a solitary setting _this_ way.

Toki nuzzled his face into Skwisgaar's sternum. “Maybes this isn'ts what we shoulds be doing right now.”

“Whats you mean?”

“We gots a lot to figures out, all the sudden. I don'ts want it to be weirds.”

Skwisgaar drummed his fingers on Toki's shoulder. However disappointed, the other man had a point. “Ja.”

“This _sucks_.” Toki's grip tightened on the Swede's middle. “I just wants thing to be's the way they were. Why dids this have to happen? What does you think? Do we stops?”

“Does you want to?”

Toki shook his head. “I needs this. I needs _you_. I don'ts know what I dids before, and like hells I wants to go back to that. Does you really cares, what people might say? They nots going to know anything real importants. They probablies all think we gay for each other, cryings about how much we in loves, or something.”

“We gots to put dis in perskektive: de only t'ing what have change is dat people know dere am somet'ing going on between us. Dey don'ts really gots a clue, though. I t'ink what make it weird right now is dat it ams new and we's not really shore what going to happen. Ot'er dan dis gettings out, not'ing has really changed. Is all in our heads. I still wants you to Dom for me.”

Toki lifted his head. “I'll admits: I figureds you would throw it away if peoples know we do anything at all.”

“Why?”

“Well, you knows. . .” Toki shrugged. “No ones really think I in your league. Is kind of true.”

Frowning, Skwisgaar hit him on the shoulder. “Dat ams de stupidest t'ing I ever heard. You gets dat out of you head. Is dat kind of t'inking what am goings to wreck dis. What we do amn'ts about leagues or looks or how we plays de guitar or dat we am famous. So you quits it right now.”

“It isn'ts that easy. I don'ts has to look on the TV or on the internets to know what people are goings to say.”

“It amn'ts _dem_ you fucking. You t'ink _I_ cares what dey say?”

“You always been confident, though.”

“You jokings? I hates dis kinds of crap. What you needs to keep in mind am dat dey knows whoevers I wit' has mades me stop fucking a million ladies. Dey beens talking abouts it non-stop.”

“Is true. . .” Toki eyed Skwisgaar carefully before crawling out from between his legs. “Ugh, this just _sucks_. I wouldn'ts think like this befores. It wouldn'ts even cross my mind.”

“I t'ink dat am why Charles tell us not to turn on de TV. I don'ts want to know what people say either. Ja, maybes dey know about us, but dat am de extent to whats dey _can_ knows, if we keeps us mouth shut.”

“Is true.” Toki laid on his stomach, feet in the air. “I don'ts want to says anything to them. They don'ts deserve an explanation, and we aren'ts obligated to gives one.”

“Oogh, I hates talking in front of peoples, anyway.” That job was always left for Nathan, Pickles, or Murderface. Even if Skwisgaar could address a crowd in his native language, he'd still more than likely freeze. “I agrees: no press conference. Let's dem talk all dey want. Evens if dey guessed what we does in Mordhaus, how woulds dey ever know dey right?” 


	4. One Minute to Midnight

The Dethkopter's engine amplifying and the entire structure shaking beneath whirring rotors preceded a lurch as Dethklok finally left Southeast Asia in their dust. Only when droplets of water formed on the windows as they ascended through clouds did Skwisgaar incline to leave the bedroom. Pissed or not, they needed to face their bandmates. Might as well get it out of the way before avoidance became a habit.

“Jeschusch Chrischt!” Murderface clutched at his face where Toki's fist connected. “Why am _I_ the punsching bag tonight? Geezsch!”

“Because you's a fuckings idiot!” Toki snapped. “Why you gots to talk to thats lady? Why couldn'ts you just shut your mouth?”

Skwisgaar stood back, arms crossed. Definitely not strong enough to engage any of their bandmates in a physical fight, he could only enjoy this second-handed. Maybe, when Murderface didn't expect it, Skwisgaar would exact revenge in a different way. Hit him over the head with his guitar, or something.

“Hey.” Nathan rose from the couch to stand next to the Swede. Pickles too; the two of them chuckled and nudged each other before Nathan carried on. “You gonna jump in there, or let your boyfriend fight all your battles?”

“Fucks off.”

“Dood, it's okee. We don' mean it. We've jest bin talkin' about sayin' thet fer a while. Heh.” The three of them collectively flinched as Murderface landed flat on his back. “We're sorry, though. We tried to shuddim up.”

“Ja,” Skwisgaar accepted the apology. “I knows. Now lets me enjoy dis.”

Murderface tried to put up a good fight, but the alcohol in his system left him no match to quick hooks and unyielding deliverance. Nathan pulled the Norwegian back by his shirt when the bassist took another hard fall. “Okay, I think he's had enough.”

“ _I_ hasn'ts.” Toki backed down regardless, shaking out his hand. “Fuckings jerk ass idiot.”

“Maybe stops before you breaks a metacarkpl or somet'ing,” Skwisgaar suggested. “He amn'ts wort' dat.”

With the fight broken up, all but Murderface's twitching form gravitated back to the couches. After requesting a couple ice packs from the nearest klokateer, Skwisgaar held each of Toki's wrists in turn as he checked the bones in his hands. “You shoulds has wrap you hands forst. Anyt'ing hort?”

“All over, but onlies a littles.”

“Ja, you'll be swollens up.”

“So. . .you guys gonna do that right there?”

“What's the big deals?” Toki shot back. “He's always done this when I fight. Everything we do isn'ts automatically gay, you knows. Why you fags watching if it bug you so much?”

“Gahd Toki, calm down. We know tonight's bin fucked up fer you guys, but you don't gotta take it out on us.” Pickles took the absent klokateer's job by doling out beer to Nathan and the Scandinavians. “We don' give a shit whet you two do, but you gotta meet us halfway. If we tease you, we don' rilly mean it.”

“Yeah. So if anyone _else_ says anything, they're fucked. Uhh. . .you can deal with Murderface on your own, though.” Nathan glanced at the bassist. “You're our brothers, and shit. You think we're gonna stand by if some asshole shoots his mouth off about it?”

“Why you on dis side of t'ing all de sudden?”

“Well, you know. . .thought about that kind of shit when _I_ was gay.” Skwisgaar turned his head to obscure his rolling eyes, Toki exhaled through his nose, and Pickles grinned crookedly. “It's nothing you can help, so fuck anyone who thinks anything else. I was still me, you guys are still you, so what's the big deal? Besides, even if I wasn't gay for a little while, I've been in high-profile relationships before. That shit sucks, so I get why you guys are so pissy tonight.”

“Oh yeeuh, I fergot about whet's-her-face.”

“When I was with. . .Rebecca. . .” the frontman shuddered as he mumbled her name, “people wouldn't leave us the fuck alone. At least you guys got it easy where you don't have to leave Mordhaus to see each other. Every time she and I met up somewhere, there'd be fucking cameras.”

“That ladys was a soul-suckings demon, anyway,” Toki replied. An end to Nathan and Pickles' ribbing calmed him down considerably. “Is why we never lets you bring her to Mordhaus.”

“You're right, but that's not exactly the point. I'm trying to tell you, you'd be better off not listening to what anyone's going to say, or at least don't take it to heart. Even if it goes over well, there's still gonna be dicks out there ready to shit all over you.”

“It ain't gonna be no different than usual,” Pickles pitched in. “No matter whet any of us do, it's always the same. Jest do whet you do, 'n' let them douchebags have their run. It won't change anything unless you let it.”

While gratitude for their support failed to show on the Swede's impassive features, Toki smiled at them. “Thanks, you guys.”

“It's like Murderface said. Well, he said a lot of stupid shit tonight, but he made one good point. If this wasn't metal, you guys wouldn't be in a relationship. And you guys having one makes it metal anyway, so whatever.”

They kept saying 'relationship' like that was what he and Toki had, Skwisgaar inwardly remarked. Perhaps that's how this appeared, from the outside. He kept his mouth shut rather than clarify. No need to push the envelope; it took a lot for Nathan to speak so frankly about something he'd probably rather ignore. Those closest to them not understanding he and Toki's dynamic comforted the Swede further than the words they offered. If _they_ couldn't pin it, after knowing them personally for such a chunk of their lives, then how could anyone else?

The klokateer he sent off returned with ice packs for Toki's hands, although the Norwegian used his beer to the same effect. The need to stick close to Toki remained for Skwisgaar—for different reason, now—yet he slid down the couch to leave a respectable distance between them. Tired and with a few beers packed away, relaxation became an option. He even found himself able to laugh when Murderface pulled himself off the floor and snatched the half-melted ice packs offered to him by Toki.

“You asschholesch loscht me schix grand, scho I hope you're happy about that,” he stated, slouched down next to Pickles. “Vampiresch aren't even real.”

“Dat ams what we tolds you!” Skwisgaar countered. “De quetskin ams irrelevant about vampires jizz if dey amn'ts real!”

“Who told me they jizz blood?” Murderface asked. “Who schaid that? Admit it right now!”

“It wasn'ts one of us.”

“It muscht have been Dick, then!” The bassist dialled out fervently on his phone, then caused an echo in the room when their producer picked up. Nathan's request that he either keep it down or go elsewhere only resulted in Murderface sticking a finger in the ear closest to the frontman.

Toki yawned on the other end of the couch. “Where ares we flying over?”

“The Pacific still, Sire.”

“I nots going to be able to stays awake untils we get home. I sees you guys later.”

With his exit, Skwisgaar's energy experienced a rapid decline. Time zones confused his body, but he must've been awake for nearly twenty hours by that point. Not to mention, three things that normally exhausted him on their own—a show, orgasm, and hot bath—had all been part of his day. Not half an hour later, he followed the Norwegian. Maybe, this tired, he _could_ sleep.

Skwisgaar skipped his own room, keeping in mind how lightly the Norwegian slept. He cringed as the doorknob latch clicked into place. Toki didn't shift though; dead-weighted limbs splayed beneath mussed sheets and he clutched the pillow he snored into. The Swede kept an eye for any sign of rousing, even though depressing the mattress would surely do it. As he predicted, he'd hardly managed to steal part of the blankets before landing an arm around his waist.

“How long now, untils we home?”

“Stills the same. You hasn'ts been in here an hour.”

A yawn rustled the hair at the nape of Skwisgaar's neck. “Didn'ts feel like I slepts much.”

The Swede pat his hand before closing his eyes. No matter how exhausted though, he failed to drift off.

“You still awakes?” Toki whispered.

“Ja.”

Skwisgaar lifted his head as an arm slithered beneath the pillow. Their bodies pressed closer, so that lips touched the Swede's ear. “I thinks we going to be okay.”

“I startings to get use to de idea. I t'ink dat am de biggest t'ing. _Dey_ helps too,” Skwisgaar referred to their frontman and drummer.

“I's kind of surprise at them for that, but I takes it. They gottens a lot better about not just lettings us deal with our own craps when bad things happen. You _all_ has.”

“T'ing change.” Skwisgaar turned his face more toward Toki. The leak of guilt that manifested whenever the kidnapping incident came up reemerged. “Hey.”

“Ja?” Toki nuzzled his cheek.

 _Should_ Skwisgaar bring it up? They already had so much to deal with. Then again, once they got home, who knew _how_ stressful this new situation might become? This might be the smoothest sailing they got for a while. “Ams you _really_ never mads about dat?”

Brief silence followed. “Oh. . .sometimes, I guess. I tries not to think about it except when I talkings with Twinkletits.”

“You still goes to him?”

“Mhm.”

See, further evidence that he and Toki weren't in a relationship. A boyfriend would have known that. “Sometimes I wonders how all dat crap goes wit' you. Mostlies, ah. . .when you sneaks in my bed.”

“What abouts it?”

“You's all clammy. Shaky.” Skwisgaar paused. “But you don'ts has to says anyt'ing about it, if you don't want.”

“Is okay. I admits it: I still gets nightmares once in a while. It isn't a new thing, though. I's always gotten them. Now is just abouts different things.”

“You ams pretty cashwalls about it.”

“Is normal for Toki.” He shrugged. “Is nice now, because I don'ts get nightmares if I gets into your bed. I thinks being in a different room help, or maybe just gettings up and moving around. I can falls back asleep and not worries about it.”

“Dat ams good. . .but you knows we fucksed up before comings to get you.”

“Ja, big time.”

“You reallies not mad about dat? Why you lets us off de hook so easy?”

“The way I looks at it, I didn'ts have much of a choice. You guys come for me in the end, and maybes if you was all assholes after and didn'ts change in how you treat old Toki, things would has been different. I _wanteds_ to be mad. . .but maybes I too forgiving.” Toki sighed. “You guys are the only family I gots, so I wasn'ts ready to gives that up if I didn'ts have to. You, especially. I likesed it when you came to pals around with me. Is funny how you manages to surprise me like that, after I knowns you so long.”

“Maybes I was just bored.”

“Psh.” Toki adjusted to let the other man roll over. “You's one of the hardest people evers to figure out, with shit like that. I thoughts for a while that you really _were_ boreds, but there was little things you do what makes it obvious you comes to make sure I doings okay. And I tested it, too. I would stays up as long as I coulds, to see if you would goes to you own room when you tired, or if you was waitings for me to say something. Remembers that time you fell asleeps?”

“You saids I didn't.”

“I lieds. You was out for likes an hour. Is the only times you ever sleeps near me and didn't snore.”

“ _Pff_ , you snores too.” Skwisgaar trailed his fingertips over Toki's upper arm. “ _Loudlies_.”

“You pokes me all night with you boners.”

“You makes me hot.”

“You hogs the whole bed.”

“Den sleeps in your own.”

“Nah.” Toki lifted Skwisgaar's chin as he dipped down to his neck. A kiss punctuated each sentence. “I likes you boners, and thats you hog the bed. When you sleepings is the only time you guard completelies down, without my help.”

Skwisgaar stiffened when teeth clipped sensitive skin. The night's stressors depleted his sex drive, but he and Toki's familiar domain focused the Swede. He didn't expect a strong arm around his waist to pull him on top. Deviating further from anything they might do when whips, rope, or any other prop fell short of the bed, Toki remained supine beneath him. Usually, physical closeness erased the sensation of an audience.

That was apparently Toki's intention. He squeezed a thigh and smirked. “ _Danse for meg._ ”

“ _Jar år ingen dansare._ ” An eyebrow popped up.

“ _Du er nå. Gå på._ ”

“ _Pffff_.” As much as Skwisgaar _despised_ being placed in feminine light, he'd let it slide with Toki. When putting his list together of the activities he wanted in a Dom/sub relationship, he considered a long time jotting it down beneath hard limits. Then, his pen hovered briefly over soft limits before foregoing it altogether. Gun-shy anticipation already fried his nerves at the time, and he wasn't yet ready to explain that one to the Norwegian if he needed clarification. Given how Skwisgaar dominated the conversation when they compared notes, he made the right call.

Rather than acquiesce the younger man's request, Skwisgaar bent down over him. It seemed pointless right now, when their bodies remained distinct from one another. Still, to tease, the Swede shifted his hips in mocking fashion. They jolted when cool, slicked fingers pressed at his ass, then a moan marked their permeation. The Norwegian caused a break in their lips' contact; his pulled into a smirk and Skwisgaar's gaped when he hooked his fingers and tugged. “Sits back up, you pussy.”

Doing so lost the brunet's digits, but the lube changing hands sought to replace them. Well aware of how closely Toki watched, Skwisgaar coated the other man. The concept that he brought about his own undoing rose heat into his cheeks. Thank Odin it was dark enough for that to go unnoticed.

Toki's grasp on his ass tightened as the Swede's head tilted forward by its own accord. Although not necessary to guide once reaching a certain depth, Skwisgaar held his fingers against where hard flesh slid past taut muscle. Soon enough, his legs relaxed and his backside nestled on Toki's hips. In wordless repetition of his earlier request, the Norwegian's hands drifted up to his waist.

One definite benefit of facing Toki was the difference in curve. Should Skwisgaar move the right way, perfect pressure inside his body hinted at the sweetness soon to touch his tongue by it. If Toki propped him up like this for a show, then a show he would get. Skwisgaar had left his hair down on purpose, although pulled it all over one shoulder so that the weak sunlight cast over the horizon illuminated every faction of his endeavour. Of course, their collective effort as Toki caught his rhythm and thrust up to meet him instilled a truth that no level of acting could compare to. Skwisgaar exhibited just how effectively Toki could undo him with something as simple as this; the closer he got, the less he cared how he looked in light of getting more, going faster, and saying anything he could to invoke that in the Norwegian. An expletive slipped past swollen lips when fervent strokes shoved him onward. Trembling already, Skwisgaar's mind stuck on Toki's name. Unable and unwilling to hold back, it rode repeatedly on the moans leading up to the most drastic furrow of his brow.

The day's tension melted from Skwisgaar's muscles, although his thighs protested as Toki helped him maneuver aside. Without prompt, the Swede lowered his head to the other man's abdomen. Toki got off on Skwisgaar cleaning up his own mess whether or not his cum already ran down pale inner thighs. He leaned up on an elbow to closer watch. “How the fucks did I ever get so lucky?”

“Hm?”

“Skwisgaar Skwigelf licks his own cum off my stomach. Skwisgaar Skwigelf lets me turn his asshole into a cunt.” To demonstrate, a couple of Toki's fingers slipped inside again, easily taking to the hilt. “One things about all this gettings out is that's really hitting me now. I can'ts believe you let this happen, thats you _wanted_ it to. This is the coolest thing _ever_.”

Skwisgaar laughed while attempting to fish the rest from Toki's bellybutton. “If you says so.”

“Go gets cleaned up, whore, befores my sheets get all sticky. I's gonna go do the same pretty quick,” Toki chirped. “And look, you evens listen.”

“I was goings to clean up anyway.” Skwisgaar grabbed his jeans off the floor. “And you betters watch youself. Maybes you my Dom, but you amn'ts gonna get bossy like dat all de time.”

“Ja, ja.” Toki waved him off. “I knows. Just lets me enjoy this rights now. I won'ts let it goes to my head.”

“Better nots.” 


	5. Skwisgaar.mp3

Slumber constantly interrupted by air turbulence, temperature fluctuations, and excessive background noise left Skwisgaar more exhausted as he disembarked the Dethkopter than if he'd just stuck it out with the other guys. Unable to concentrate on anything but that, he barely mumbled a goodbye to Toki when they went their separate ways. Anytime he roused, he laid there until he drifted off again. 3:30 in the morning, then 7:00, then half past noon lit up on his Dethphone whenever he cared enough to check. The fact that his mother called a few times—thwarted by his silenced ringer—only kept him awake long enough for a self-reminder of the latest whirlwind of gossip circulating the globe.

A sense of calm draped over Skwisgaar. Coming home after another successful show, fighting a headache, and enjoying his room's silence made it incredibly difficult to feel like anything actually changed. Whenever one or more members of Dethklok experienced a personal crisis, the outside world remained a separate entity so long as the band avoided financial or legal consequence. What backlash could possibly come of everyone considering he and Toki gay, or a couple by extent? It was 2015—public stoning and shaming belonged to another era. If Skwisgaar was really concerned that monogamy would harm his image, he would've kept his stable active for show. He knew, when he requested Charles empty it out, that it would draw attention.

Skwisgaar propped himself up on an elbow and one-handedly sent a text message to Toki. A thumb on his screen kept it out of sleep mode while he waited for a response.

_'Ja i ben up a couple hour. Went 4 a run w baldur'_

_'Hungry?'_

Toki knocked, rather than texted back. A lank, loose ponytail and sweat-drenched tee shirt kept him at a distance on the way back to his bedroom. Baldur tried to budge inside, but Toki tightened his grasp on the leash. “I gets washed up first, if you wants to meet in the kitchen. Then we should probablies go talks to Charles.”

“Right.” Laziness prompted Skwisgaar to seek a more comfortable position in his bed, even though his hips ached from how many hours he'd lounged around. “Ja, mights as well get dat out of de way, I guess.

“Befores you go. . .” Skwisgaar added when Toki took a step back. “Cans I jack off?”

“After everything yesterday, you already needs to again?”

“And you _didn'ts_ , dis morning?”

Toki smiled. “Goes ahead, then.”

All those people wanted to know what forced Skwisgaar Skwigelf to settle down? Whether on his own or with others' help, precision didn't curl the man's toes. Operating by another's hand even like this delivered the fire Skwisgaar grew addicted to. By needing permission, he no longer possessed any secrets surrounding his sexual clock. Toki would always know when the Swede worked himself over, what times of day the urge generally hit him, and, after Skwisgaar shot off a grateful _'Tack'_ , how long it lasted. The blond liked to believe he could satisfy his Dom this way even at a distance.

More than physical release established a good mood when the Swede climbed out of bed. However uncertain the air following the concert, everything already shifted back toward normal. He'd woken up, jacked off, and now he prepared for a relatively low-key day with some mandatory business thrown in to keep him on his toes. He grabbed his guitar after showering and dressing, finger-combing wet hair on his way to the kitchen.

“Tooks you long enough,” Toki commented cheerfully from in front of the fridge. “Figureds you was putting on makeups, or something.”

“Fucks you.” Skwisgaar took a seat. He indeed covered the discolouration on his neck, but Toki didn't need to rub it in. Although the Norwegian's feminization flew in the heat of the moment, Skwisgaar shied away from it in the distant aftermath. “Did Jean-Pierre say what ams for lunch?”

“We wasn't supposed to comes back until tomorrow, so he still in France with he grandkids 'til then. We gots to fend for ourselves.”

“I don'ts know how to cook.”

“You does too, don't just says that. You must has fed youself backs before you got famous. Puts down you guitar and come here.”

With so many old women taking an interest in the destitute son of a former pageant queen, Skwisgaar really _didn't_ prepare his own food much back in Sweden. Usually someone called him to her door on his way home from school in order to drop a bag of sweets into his backpack or hand off a chunk of roast. If they didn't, he'd resort to the tins of tomato soup his mother stocked the pantry with whenever she could. Because of that, anything to do with the red fruit wrinkled Skwisgaar's nose. Not even Jean Pierre could prepare a dish yet that made him like it again.

“Whats you see when you look in here?” Toki prompted him as they both gave the well-stocked shelves a good stare.

“Not'ings. A bunch of ingredients.”

“Think harders.” Toki rubbed his back as encouragement. Rather than it work, Skwisgaar narrowed one eye at the Norwegian in suspicion. The shorter man only smiled.

“Why you ask me dis?”

“You's a creative person, and that can'ts just be for music. I likes to see how you turn things that are nothing into something.”

Much as he wished to remain sullen, Skwisgaar leaned more toward him. “I don'ts t'ink it going to happen here.”

“Because you tellings youself that. Evens if it just a sandwich. Goes on.”

A sandwich _did_ sound good. What did Jean-Pierre make for him, last week? Winging it, Skwisgaar brought out a couple different vegetables, a couple meats, some cheese, and attempted to find the same bread. A klokateer cut everything for him in accordance to his hand insurance policy. While he stacked everything on one of the slices of bread, atop mayonnaise, ranch, and a dash of mustard, he couldn't ignore any longer that Toki leaned back against the counter with a grin. “Amn'ts you going to eat somet'ing?”

“Soon, ja.”

“Why you watchings me like dis?”

“Is it a crimes?”

“Does it gots to be?”

Toki slapped Skwisgaar's ass on his way back to the fridge. “Maybes I find it funny, to sees you do stuff like this. Who knows _when_ I sees it again?”

“Guess you betters enjoy it.” Squishing it down with the second piece of bread finished the chore. Finally, Skwisgaar could eat. Coming into the kitchen at any hour of the day and finding food prepared spoiled him.

The last quarter of his sandwich situated mostly ignored on his plate by the time Toki sat down with cold cuts heated in the microwave and a leftover baked potato smothered in bacon bits, sour cream, and green onions. “See? Nots that hard, is it?”

“More dan I's used to.”

“Just admits it and makes me happy.”

“Fines, den. It amn'ts dat hard.” Skwisgaar poked him with the toe of his boot. “Gas station nachos am easier, though.”

“And where was we goings to get those, huh?”

“De gas station.”

“What gas stations, where?”

“Just takes de joke and makes me happy, ja?”

“Psh, makes _you_ happy?”

Although Skwisgaar feigned otherwise, the Norwegian's attitude bolstered his optimism. Practiced at concealing emotion, it manifested instead as shoves and attempts to trip the younger man on the way to their manager's office. Toki couldn't stop giggling in kind, no matter how hard he tried. Only a gasp as he nearly stumbled to the floor over Skwisgaar's boot caused pause. “Okay, okay, quits it now.”

“You likes it.”

“Sees how _you_ like it.” Laughter returned with the blond's composure compromised. “See? Not so funny now, is it?”

“You stills laughing.”

Toki rubbed the aching muscles in his cheeks as they poked their heads into Charles' office. He spoke on the phone, but waved them in anyway. Rather than loiter, Skwisgaar took a seat before the man's desk. This might be the end of he and Toki's playing around.

“One moment,” Charles said after hanging up the phone again. “Grace, please hold my calls again.”

“Already on it, Mr. Offdensen,” her voice came back through the intercom.

“There's quite a backlog,” he explained to the guitarists. “I hope that doesn't give you the wrong impression of how all this is unfolding. I've been waiting until I speak with you before truly addressing the situation. Have you considered what you want to do?”

“Not'ings.”

“We just wants to let it be.” Toki nodded his agreement. “Why does we gots to explain anything? So long as it doesn't hurts the band or change the music, who really cares?”

“Just people what amn'ts got not'ing to does wit' it, what like gossip.”

“Right. And how are you certain this won't hurt the band, exactly?”

“We keeps t'ing separate. Why, you t'inks it will? We beens doing dis since. . .November?” Skwisgaar looked to Toki for confirmation. “No ones even notice, fors a long time. De guys don't care. Moidaface maybe, but fucks him.”

“I just want to be sure you two aren't running solely on, ah. . .emotion.”

“We aren't stupids, Charles. We talks about it a lot. Why does everyone think we alls gay about it, anyway? And Nathans keep saying we in a relationship.”

“You're, ah, free to define yourself however you wish. As your band manager and PR representative, my sole concern is that a change of dynamics in the house doesn't interfere with your wealth or international standing. You've taken precaution toward that?”

“We wouldn'ts has done anyt'ing if we thought it woulds fucks anyt'ing up.”

“I appreciate the forethought. It certainly makes my job a lot easier, so long as you two maintain how you are now.” Charles jotted something down. “Anything else I should know, while you're here?”

“All dis starts off as a Dom/sub t'ing, so it amn'ts about—”

Toki hit Skwisgaar's thigh with the back of his hand, eyes wide. “Skwisgaar!”

The Swede merely shrugged. He'd sat here on too many occasions to count, relating his bedroom behaviours to their manager. It saved him a _lot_ of trouble, like when Charles came up with the paternity waiver. “Dese am t'ing he need to know.”

“Well. . .” Toki still hesitated, but Charles' impassive expression seemed to help. The Norwegian averted his gaze and rubbed his arm as Skwisgaar carried on.

“. . .But you don'ts got to worries about dat, I covers de bruises or mark wit' clothes or makeups evens for de band sake. If we ams going out in public, I ams doubles careful. Or, if I knows we going out in advance, we just don'ts do anyt'ing.” He paused. “I t'ink dat ams it.”

“All right.” Charles nodded, head still down as his pen rushed across the paper. “So coming back on how you wish to handle this, just for confirmation. No press conference, and if anyone should ask, a 'no comment' will suffice? As for interviews, I will embargo any questions related to it and compose a waiver, stating termination of life as punishment for breaching that. If either of you find yourselves in a situation where you cannot avoid its acknowledgement, simply ignore and carry on as you were.”

“Rights.” All that seemed to go over Toki's head, but Skwisgaar could explain it later. He himself heard this enough to be familiar with the manager's preemptive duties.

“That takes care of all the necessary concerns. Are either of you interested to know how it's going over?”

“It can'ts be bad, if you ams offering to tell us. What's you t'ink?” Skwisgaar jarred Toki from his discomfiture.

“Oh. . .sure.”

“It's about what I expected. There isn't one unified opinion or theory; they're all over the place. You can of course expect the more conservative groups to scorn it, not that they didn't already abhor Dethklok's music. The religious right as well, since church attendance has been on such a rapid decline already. Some people already suspected it, some say it's impossible given what they've seen of how you two get along, and most are treating it as truth even without confirmation. Ah, the Democratic and Republican parties are scrambling to prioritize the subject of LGBT rights with the presidential election coming up next year. I'll just let you go ahead and assume where either of those stand. As for the LGBT community, most are excited and optimistic about how your respective orientations may hasten the alteration of exclusive marital laws, and bring attention to such issues as gender recognition on governmental administrative level for people who do not identify with the traditional male/female binary. Of course, there is some bitterness for the fact that the community has fought decades for some sort of break like this when two spoiled rockstars—their words, not mine—can just come out and automatically get what they want. . .whatever they assume that is. Some want to know why you didn't do it sooner, for their sake.” Charles paused. “Politics aside, there's plenty of speculation on _you_ , personally. Drawing from the assumption that you, Skwisgaar, have become monogamous, the question that keeps coming up is how Toki managed to acquire such a thing when no one else could. Of course, they already discussed that before Toki became the predominant candidate for your, ah, partner.”

“'Predomkant'?”

“Like I said, suspicions have circulated about the two of you ever since you cleared out your stable. Some, even before that.” Charles shrugged. “Since your existence as economic and culture powerhouses restricts more common people from fully empathizing with your lifestyles, the most sensical place for you to find a partner was within your own social circle. As for speculation on how a relationship between you two would function, again, all areas of the spectrum. Some say unhealthy, some say the difference in experience will doom you, and some say you balance the other out. So take it as you want, would be my advice. All the various outlooks leave the average at average. While album sales may plummet in one place, they'll surge in another. Same goes for public opinion.”

Skwisgaar paid attention to Toki out of the corner of his eye, more concerned about how he took it. The Norwegian had difficulty with criticism and the spotlight, let alone those combined. He chewed on his thumbnail, quiet, but nodded in all the appropriate places to show that he listened.

Back in Skwisgaar's room, where he and Toki wound up afterward, the younger man dropped onto the bed with a hefty sigh. “Wowie.”

“You amn'ts mad about me telling him everyt'ing, am you?”

“I didn'ts expect that. But I understands why.” Toki furrowed his brow. “Can you believes there are really people what hates us for this?”

“Eh, fucks them. Dey hates us when we makes money, dey hates us when de economy slow down because we _don'ts_ make money, dey hates us when we happy, dey hates us when we sad. We nevers going to makes everyone happy, so I's okay wit' how dis go. It amn'ts dat big a deal.”

“Is just something to get used to, I guess. I's not used to so many people payings attention to old Toki.”

“Just don't t'inks about it. For de most part, we don'ts got to deals wit' people outside.” Skwisgaar sat down. “And we amn'ts getting tease or anyt'ing by de guys, so is easy to t'ink dat not'ing change at all.”

“I guess. I likes people to like me, but I thinks even if everyone hateds us, I woulds be okay so long as _you_ didn'ts. Is easy to just say that though, so I don'ts really know. We gots the longer end of the stick in all this, didn't we?”

“Definitelies. I's been on de short end a few times, and it amn't anyt'ing like dis. Dis ams pretty easy. Pretty good.” Skwisgaar laid back and folded his fingers behind his head. “What ams your plan for de day?”

With two blank agendas, Skwisgaar wound up kicking his boots off while Toki ran down the hall to fetch his computer. A genial nature caved the Swede on sitting down with the younger man to watch _Two Brothers Build a Cocaine Empire in California_ on Netflix, although he certainly didn't need to spend anymore time today in bed. He made himself comfortable while Toki plugged in and landed next to him on his stomach.

“Um. . .” Toki closed a few stray pop-ups, then tapped his fingers against the keyboard while he waited for the internet browser to load. His desktop was painfully crowded with icons for songs, the names of which Skwisgaar scanned over in search for something familiar. He raised an eyebrow before pointing at one. “What ams dat?”

“Nothings, probably.”

“It has my names on it. I wants to know what it ams.” Skwisgaar frowned when Toki smacked his hand away from the trackpad. “What ams de big deal?”

“Just. . .don'ts, okay? It isn'ts for your ears.”

At first, the Swede assumed something called Skwisgaar.mp3 would simply be one of his solos. Toki acted as normally as he could while fixed with a glare, but the tremble in his fingers provoked enough compassion for Skwisgaar to leave it alone. For now, anyway. 


	6. Mor

The latest effort of Dethklok's three primary contributors scrolled across the colossal screen before Nathan. Seated on the studio couch next to Pickles, Skwisgaar mindlessly played along with the lead guitar line. As impressive this sounded in his head upon first suggestion, it didn't translate correctly as a collaboration. This equated to most their other work in quality, but one point of pride amongst he, the drummer, and frontman was that the next creation always defeated the old standard. Another round of nagging from Charles at a band meeting pushed them here, and while this went better than the last five months, Nathan still tapped the Delete button with no protest from the other two.

He rubbed his eyes one-handedly as he turned to face them. “We should call it a night. Get back at it tomorrow.”

“Yeeuh, it's gettin' a bit late.” One in the morning, last Skwisgaar checked. Surely a couple hours passed, since then. He, like Pickles and Nathan, wouldn't mind unwinding before passing out.

 _'U still up?'_ he texted Toki once removed from the other two's company. With the declining necessity that the two of them deal with the aftermath of being outed, they receded back into their own schedules. Especially with long studio sessions, he and Toki converged less frequently. Blow jobs tided Skwisgaar over, but while that helped in the short-term, he needed something more severe again. Unable to help himself, he grew half-hard in anticipation while he waited for a response. He could already feel a sting and bite across his ass.

However, fifteen minutes without a return text relayed the obvious: Toki had called it an early night. Skwisgaar couldn't even ask permission; despite that, he ran the tips of his fingers lightly along the underside of his erection. The temptation to forego his accord with the Norwegian emerged, and the fantasy of how he might be punished only made it worse. However, surely the younger man wouldn't be so keen to give what Skwisgaar imagined. That would defeat the entire purpose of penalization, so Skwisgaar ought to quit teasing himself.

Discipline helped him adhere to Toki's expectations. Much as it sucked to retain today's stress, it'd be worth it later when he obtained his reward.

That arrived sooner than later, or so it seemed. Fingers running through Skwisgaar's hair pulled him from the depths of sleep. Sunlight tinged the insides of his eyelids orange, and despite lingering fatigue, he stretched on a deep breath. “ _Morgen_.”

“ _God morgen, lilla gubben._ ”

Skwisgaar's eyes snapped open. One sight of blond hair and a red dress jerked his diaphragm downward with a harsh gasp. He pulled his blanket up to his neck. “De fucks you doing here?”

“I comes to see you. I couldn'ts get through on the phone.”

“Dat don'ts mean you can just comes around here unannounced!” Regardless, here she was. Skwisgaar curled into himself, then sighed. “Gets out. Just. . .lets me dress.”

Skwisgaar's stomach already knotted. He might throw up. How long passed since they spoke, let alone saw one another? Longer than when he last received a phone call from Tyr, at least. Slouched on the edge of his bed, though vertical, Skwisgaar pressed his palms against his aching forehead. This tired, could he even be _certain_ she really came? He didn't just have a nightmare?

No; she leaned against the wall in the hallway when he emerged.

“Whats you doing here?” Skwisgaar stiffly repeated.

“I wanteds to see how you am. I left you messages to lets you know I was coming.”

“How you gets past security? Never minds, don't tell me.” Skwisgaar shuddered. “You can't stays long. I gots work to do. Maybes is best if you—”

“Then we just eats lunch together. I gots friends what I plan on seeings while I's in the country.” Most likely all the men she'd met during her previous visits. “I wouldn'ts want to keep you when you busy.”

Leading her down the corridor, Skwisgaar shrunk inside his clothes. The same perfume she wore throughout his childhood overwhelmed his olfactory senses and instantly reinstated his childhood habit of chewing his lips to shit. He brought a guitar down off the wall when they reached the dining room. Taking a seat opposite her, his fingers went into overdrive. At least the rest of the band more than likely remained in bed. They couldn't pay witness to whatever embarrassment this inevitably degraded to. Skwisgaar still hadn't lived down the Christmas Special incident, and he never bothered to fully explain what changed his mind about returning from Sweden.

Maybe if he answered her calls, this wouldn't have happened.

“Well?” Skwisgaar ended the silence between them. “You goings to tell me why you come, or whats?”

“Your face am everywhere, on the TV.”

“It always ams. You lookings for information, den? Well, I amn'ts telling you not'ing.” Satisfied with a position of power in the entire situation, Skwisgaar lifted his chin. “I don'ts know why you bother. You travels a long way to hear dat.”

“ _Lilla gubben_ , you thinks I really care about all that? You ams my son and of course I wants to know what goes on in your life, but you don't needs to tell me anything about you havings interest in men or that you and Toki ams together. Besides, I am your mother; you thinks I don't have suspicions before you leaves home that you don'ts only like girls?”

Skwisgaar frowned.

“It has beens a long time since we sees each other,” Serveta continued. “I thoughts it was time to ends that.”

“If I felts de same, I woulds has talks to you on de phone.”

“I knows you too well, Skwisgaar. Don'ts you miss me?”

Skwisgaar spotted his mother's manipulations a mile away. Even then, intrinsic allure toward the woman who brought him into the world twisted his guts. True, he wished they could have some sort of relationship. Bringing one more man into Skwisgaar's life and keeping him around only long enough for a bond to form was the last straw, though. At least Tyr wore a decent head on his shoulders; after moving on to a new wife and stepchildren, he kept a foot in Skwisgaar's life. His phone calls evoked unresolved grief, but the guitarist always appreciated the chance to feel connected to someone from his homeland. Maybe, if he were still a minor, that divorce would've been his ticket away from his mother.

Sitting alone with her in silence broken only by the twang of guitar strings, Skwisgaar didn't feel much older than that. Shame welled up in his chest, as if his mother ushered a man out the front door before nonchalantly joining him at the kitchen table. Although April sunshine flooded through the windows, Skwisgaar sensed the gentle drift of snow through mid-winter's faint light. With it came nausea. Even in his mind, he wasn't ready to go back there.

“I don'ts know,” he finally answered. “I wish you wouldn'ts ask dat. You'ves done a lot of t'ing what saying sorry am never going to fix, and I'm sick of addings new t'ing to dat list every time we starts talking again.”

“Its has always been only you and me,” she replied. “Familys-wise. You has the other boys here, ja, but we ams blood. I amn'ts going to live forever, Skwisgaar. Then how woulds you feel, if I goes and you gots this grudge against me?”

“Don'ts you dare try to guilts me like dat. You don't t'ink I know all you tricks? If dis am all you goings to do, den I goings to call de klokateers to show you out. So you starts talking straight wit' me, or just shuts up.”

“Why do you assumes I has an ulterior reason to makes contact with you? Why can'ts a mother just want to talks with her child?”

“Then why you calls _right_ when all dis craps happening about me on de TV?”

“Because you don'ts handle stress well, and I wanteds to check on you. For all I knows, you ams being ostracized by your friends and fall outs with Toki over all the suddens attention. If thats was the case, then you shoulds have somewhere to falls back, and no matter how old you gets or who you ares, the first place to go ams always to your parents.”

For how forcefully Skwisgaar scoffed, truth lay in that statement. If it _did_ disgust the other guys and he and Toki couldn't handle such overwhelming exposure, he might have called home himself. Old habits died hard; even in his youth, all they had were each other. Serveta's age meant her parents passed before Skwisgaar's birth, and with no aunts, uncles, or cousins to speak of, who else could Skwisgaar depend on? As unreliable as his mother could sometimes be, she was still the most consistent face in his life. Teachers only lasted for a year, friends and bands for far shorter. Only in recent years, as Dethklok proved a steady gig and its members resembled more brothers than coworkers, had his family expanded.

“I don'ts expect that today you wills be happy to see me,” Serveta continued. “And I knows that you ams leery because of everyt'ing we beens through together. But thinks about it, okay? I haves missed _you_ , _lilla gummen_.”

A string of klokateers appeared then with a spread from the kitchen. While Serveta helped herself, steering the conversation toward a catch-up, Skwisgaar poked his food as he nodded along. He didn't expect his day to start like this. The mix of shame, sadness, and fury that formed the background of his life's first sixteen years resurrected, shutting him down for the most part. Despite that, when he walked his mother to the foyer, he didn't push her away when she moved in for a hug.

“I cans tell you not thrilled, but thanks you for trying.” Serveta squeezed his upper arm. “If you wants, I leaves the ball in your court. You calls me when you ams ready.”

Skwisgaar deflated when the door closed behind her. He couldn't even imagine today winding up productive. On the way back to his room, he texted Pickles and Nathan a white lie that he'd stayed up half the night ill and might need to postpone their agreed start-time. When he got _this_ torn up inside, he couldn't even summon interest in his guitar. Like the tide receding, his mother took all his emotion and left a sole strain of desolation. It picked at him relentlessly as he laid on his back and stared at the ceiling.

He didn't bother with his phone when a text came in, since it fell beyond reach. Could just be a reply from his drummer or frontman. Not long after though, distinctive footsteps came down the hallway; a quick knock preceded the door opening. “Oh, you _ares_ in here.”

“Ja.”

Toki appeared in his line of vision. “What's the matters with _you?_ ”

The mattress depressing rolled Skwisgaar toward the younger man. Cheek pressed against denim, he avoided the subject. “Dids you get my text?”

“Asking if I was stills awake? Ja, this morning when I gots up. Whats about it?”

“Woulds you cane me? I really needs it right now.”

Toki pushed the stray hairs off Skwisgaar's temple. “Sure. Takes off your clothes.”

Built-up sexual energy mingled with anxiety to formulate a weird headspace. Skwisgaar's fingers shook as he tied his hair back and stripped; to hide that from the younger man, he pressed the digits into his elbows and rested his forehead across his forearms after assuming prone position. Although his breath steadied, his heart still pounded hard enough to hear. He needed to forget, to chase all the heaviness in his chest away.

Except for the first contact startling Skwisgaar, he perpetuated a calm state. He kept count for a few minutes, then gave up as the numbers slipped away with the rest of his thoughts. All that existed was the huff of breath on Toki's part followed by another influx in the sea of gratifying agony spread from his ass to his thighs. No matter how his muscles automatically tensed, his face mirrored peace within. When Toki ended the onslaught, Skwisgaar couldn't make his body move. He didn't even want to. Only a more forceful repetition of his name and a hand on his shoulder compelled him to speak.

“Whats was that you say?”

“ _Tack_.” Skwisgaar wet parched lips. Finally, with help, he changed his position. Sleep could come easily right now, especially with the fingers gently scratching his head.

“Beens a long week in the studio?”

“Ja.”

“Maybe you guys need to takes a break. I hasn't seen you this stressed out for a while.”

A blanket of calm made it easy to further elaborate. “My mom was heres.”

“Your mom?” Toki's fingers slowed. “This mornings, you mean?”

“Ja.”

“What did she wants? Dids you invite her?”

“She just shows up.” Normally this degree of frustration over such a notion would be accompanied by wild gestures, wide eyes, and probably a bottle in hand. “She saids it was too long since we sees each other. Not longs enough, in my eye.”

“That sucks. I gets why you so freaked out.”

“Hey. . .Toki? Cans I tell you somet'ing?”

“Ja, anything.”

Skwisgaar debated confiding in Toki his most guarded secret for too long. He would do that until the day he died, if he waited for a time when he was ready to share; in reality, that would never come. In this untroubled condition, where he felt safest, the monotonous constitution of his speech made it easy to simply state the facts. “I wasn'ts a mistake, you knows.”

“As a baby, you means?”

Skwisgaar nodded. “My mom wanteds a kid. If she didn't, she knews how to gets rid of me, or how to prevents me. I t'ink it was because my grandma had dieds. My grandpa was alreadies gone and that left her alones. She nevers had any friends.”

The Swede left out his suspicion that no mere mortal aided his existence. All the scarring in Serveta's uterus from the assumed removal of prior 'accidents' probably left need for something a little stronger than human sperm to create life again. But that was all meant for a different conversation, at a later time.

“Huh.” Toki tried to mask his surprise; it didn't offend Skwisgaar. He spent many an afternoon laying around in his tiny bed back home trying to find a way back to that truth.

“But. . .she didn't want a son.”

“She tolds you that?”

“She didn'ts have to.” Reassessment squashed, the blond closed his eyes again. “T'inks back to you very forst memory. You know how you sees it like it happen in a dream, likes you reach dat point in you sleep and you starts off in de middle of somet'ing what already happening? For mine, I was reallies upset. I didn'ts know what happen, but my head hort, I was cold, and my eyes were heavy.

“She wanteds a little girl,” Skwisgaar forced the words out before reemerging stress compelled him to stop. “Because she didn'ts know how to relate to boys. All she knows about men am what dey can does for her. But a girl, she coulds have a little kid like her to pals around wit' and do girl stuffs wit'. I guess I looked close enough to dat when I was really littles, in her eye.”

“Whats you mean?”

The Swede's tongue still formed words as he receded into the memory. His little knees knocked against each other, and a younger version of his mother's concentrated face hovered less than a foot in front of his. She slapped his hand when he tried again to push her away. “Stop it, Skwisgaar. You won't ever be able to get on a stage if you don't let me do this. Don't you want to?”

“No!”

“Of course you do. It's fun.” She smiled when her comb stopped tugging. “Turn around. Take a look and tell me what you think.”

He already knew he'd hate it, but he did as he was told. Despondency piqued, leading him to pull at the bows in his hair, then he burst into tears when he landed another slap and scolding. Skwisgaar downright screamed when she yanked him back around and ran her thumbs roughly over his cheeks. “Well, I hope you're happy! You've got mascara all over you.”

Toki no longer pet Skwisgaar's hair. The white bedroom basked in discomfort, transforming into apprehension as regret trickled into the older man. Did Toki find it funny? In a way it was, and that made it all the more devastating. Even too young then to understand the difference between gender, Skwisgaar felt absolutely _humiliated_ as he peered upon himself in his mother's vanity mirror.

“She _dids_ that to you?”

“Untils I cut all my hair off and mades her stop,” Skwisgaar confirmed. Shit, he'd already been going to grade school when that idea finally occurred to him. At least she never managed to enter him in any of the competitions she spoke about. The dream seemed to satisfy her enough, and Skwisgaar let her have that so long as his mortification remained in their home. “She saids I belonged on a stage. I dids, but not like dat.”

“Skwis, I don'ts know what to say. That's all different kinds of fuckeds up.”

The Swede's nose pressed into Toki's abdomen. “You won'ts tell no one, right?”

“No—no, I won'ts. You don'ts has to worry about that.” Toki paused. “I thanks you for trusting me enough to tells me that, but holy shits. She puts you in dresses? Fucks, and all those times I tease you about beings a lady. . .”

Out of all the bullshit his mother put him through, Skwisgaar had yet to properly deal with this. Her promiscuity and basic abandonment could be referred to in a throw-away comment, and while the blond _knew_ what his mother did wasn't his fault he still descended into extreme nausea every time he revisited it. As a result, with fear to mix since sharing made it that more real, he scrambled for the bathroom to lose every morsel of breakfast he managed to get down. What a mess. He couldn't imagine what Toki saw when he followed, a damaged boy bent under the weight of his shame and backside red from the means to evacuate it.

The Norwegian flushed the toilet before lowering himself to his knees beside and pulling Skwisgaar's hair back. “Ares you going to throw up again?”

“Maybes, I don't know.”

“Just gets it all up, if it meant to come.”

Burning eyes at least masked what portion of blame fell on indignity for the sniffle Skwisgaar responded with. Should he have possessed a shred of foresight, he wouldn't have put himself into a position where he couldn't hide his body. The thrum in his ass, while cathartic, also contributed. And yet, though he didn't want to be looked at right now, Skwisgaar couldn't request solitude.

“I don'ts t'ink I's going to,” he croaked when the urge receded enough for him to safely open his mouth. “Fucks, I hate dis. I'm sorry you sees me dis way.”

Lips pressed to the side of his head, followed by a nuzzle. “There's no needs to apolgesize. Just lets Toki help you.”

An ice pack well wrapped in a towel separated Skwisgaar's backside from the bed. To save a shred of his pride, he obscured his bottom half with the fur blanket and pulled his shirt back on. Toki's lap, made more comfortable by a pillow, regained his head. Rather than twitch away, as he did whenever his mother tried to touch his hair, Skwisgaar gravitated toward the gentle massage his scalp underwent.

“I hopes dis don't makes you feel different about me.”

“It do, but not the way you think. I understands you better.”

“You don'ts t'ink it weird?”

“For her, ja. I makes this clear, Skwisgaar: I wouldn'ts has cared if you just tolds me you wear women's clothes when you by yourself, or if you was reallies one on your inside. That isn'ts how this work, with me. Whether you a man, woman, or something in between, it don'ts change that Toki cares about you. Fuck, evens if you was actually borns a woman, I'd _still_ chase you around.”

“Really?”

“Likes I say, it don'ts matter for Toki. I sees _you_ when I looks at you, not what you mom did, not what your body like, not what your gender like. Just Skwisgaar.”

Unsure what to say or how to even express his gratitude, Skwisgaar looped an arm back around the small of the Norwegian's back in a makeshift embrace. That was about all he—anyone, really—could ever ask for.

“What can I does to make you feel better?” Toki asked. “Does you want you guitar? To watch TV?”

“I. . .probablies should try and get de energy to meets up wit' Pickle and Nat'an.” Skwisgaar cringed when he shifted. “Eegh, maybes not.”

“You just takes it easy. You guys been working non-stops for too long anyway. Times for a break. We coulds finally watch some more _Two Brothers_ and finds out what happen now that the L.A.P.D. Chief is gettings in on the drug business.”

“Dat sounds good.” Having to stop watching at such a point in the show, along with needing as normal a day as possible, influenced Skwisgaar's agreement. Maybe, after all that, the bullshit could return to the back of his mind. 


	7. Toki.mp3

One day off turned into three. Out of necessity, Skwisgaar feigned a straight face in the studio while he healed. Every chafe against denim resulted in an inward grimace; if only he'd been a little more sensible. His bandmates failed to notice, at least until they gathered in the conference room another few days later for a meeting. Skwisgaar arrived second, after the drummer. He ignored the redhead's initial chuckle, then raised an eyebrow. “Whats?”

“Nothin'.”

Another chuckle slowed the Swede's fingers on his fretboard. “Either tells me what am so funny or fucks off.”

“I said nothin'.”

“Then quits laughing.”

“Jest a, uh. . .werd of advice. _Muscle relaxers_.” Pickles paused. “I guess thet's two werds of advice.”

“Huh?”

The bassist and frontman filed in then, closely followed by their manager. Toki breezed into the room about ten minutes after the hour.

“Ah, thank you for joining us.” Charles adjusted his glasses after the small talk circulating the room died down. “Today should be quick. Have you boys made any progress, yet?”

“No.” Nathan crossed his arms. “Are you going to ask us that every time we see you?”

“It's for your own good. Six months, and you don't have one demo? Nothing for me to send off to Crystal Mountain?”

“What did I just say?”

Charles pinched the bridge of his nose. “In that case, the agreement to let you go it your own on this record has been nullified. Knubbler and Abigail will be here at nine a.m. Monday morning—”

“Whoa, are you trying to _schedule_ us?” Nathan narrowed his eyes. “You think we get creative when we're told to?”

“You're on the verge of missing the deadline you've known about for—”

“Fuck the deadline!”

Murderface glanced up from his phone. “Hold on, what did I hear about Abigail? Sche'sch back?”

“Yes, William. If you'd stop texting, you would've heard me say that.”

“Maybe I'm crazy,” Murderface stated loudly, “but doesch anyone remember the _lascht_ time she worked with usch? Am I the only one that thinksch the bitch that nearly broke up our band schouldn't be in our schtudio?”

“Fucks off Moidaface, you thinks all that crap was _her_ fault?” Toki snapped from across the table. “She never asks for Nathan and Pickle to use their dicks like metal detectors what ams only good for finding wimmins!”

“She is highly skilled at her job, so she's the ideal choice professionally. As for _personally_. . .” Charles looked between the frontman and drummer. “We're going to have a long discussion in my office, about sexual harassment and interpreting discouraging social cues.”

“Now hold on! Every time _I_ get in trouble, you addressch it here! I wanna know what you're going to schay to them!”

“Why're you talking about me like I'm a fucking idiot?” Nathan asked their manager. “I'm over it, all right? Pickles and I agreed—right, Pickles?—that there are more important things than women. Besides, if all she's gonna do is be a fucking tease—”

Toki's chair scraped away from the table. “Don'ts you _dare_ talk about her like that. It ams all _your_ fault that the band brokes up. All it takes to tease a stupids idiot like you is beings born a lady.”

“This is strictly professional,” Charles stated. “Toki, please sit down. I know everyone's tense, but there's no need for a fight to break out. And Nathan, Toki has a point. If we want this to work, everyone needs to mind their manners and be polite.”

“This was Damien's idea, wasn't it?” Nathan asked. “Fuck, I hate that guy. Fine. He wants to play with us and our music, then fucking bring it on.”

“They'll only be here as long as it takes for you to get on track. Crystal Mountain set the album deadline for September thirtieth, so if we allocate three months to recording, you have a little less than a month now to figure out what direction you're going.”

“A _month?_ ” Nathan's eyes widened. “How the fuck did this sneak up on us so fast? Where have you _been?_ ”

“Yeeuh dood, you shoulda _told_ us!”

Skwisgaar filed out of the conference room a half hour later with the others, just as quiet in his consternation. Setting the release date for next spring made it feel like they had all the time in the world. But. . .less than a month? They'd already been at it for half a year. What could they possible do in so few weeks? Fuck, at some point they were actually _ahead_ of all this.

Quickly becoming an expert about the peaks of Skwisgaar's stress, Toki welcomed himself into the Swede's room as the evening turned to night. Slouched on the corner chair, he watched the blond's fingers fly over the frets. “You really don'ts got nothing to shows me yet, for guitar parts?”

“Don'ts remind me.”

“Is _that_ bads? I always kinds of thought you guys joking, when I checks in.”

“Coulds we not talks about dis?” Skwisgaar requested. “Is nots like we beens fucking around. We beens at it de last six mont' and we comes up wit' a lot, but it amn'ts working.”

“I wonders what Abigail and Knubbler woulds be able to do.” Toki's eyes widened. “There isn'ts anything _anyones_ can do if the ideas aren't there, rights?”

Skwisgaar set his guitar aside and leaned back on his elbows. He _really_ didn't want to think about the record or the band. He'd be up all night already, planning for when he hit the studio tomorrow afternoon. “Does you talks to Abigail a lot?”

“I tries, ja. Usuallies we talk on Sunday night, unless one of us has a thing.”

Of course Toki must've kept in contact with her. How come he never mentioned it? Just like his sessions with Twinkletits, it seemed common sense that Skwisgaar know these things. They spent enough time together. . .or so the Swede thought. “How am she doing, anyway?”

“Good! We talks just before I comes here.” Toki smiled. “She's flyings over tomorrow, so we goings to pal arounds before we gots to work. Maybe goes into Mordland for the day, or something.”

“I haven'ts heard anyt'ing about what she beens up to, de last year and a half. Hasn't seens her.” The physical gap between he and Toki reflected how far out of the loop Skwisgaar felt about this part of the Norwegian's life. “You don'ts talk about her.”

“I didn'ts know you really care, since you don't ask.”

“It amn'ts a t'ing I thoughts I could just ask about, in case it ams just for you two to has.”

“You shouldn'ts worry about offending me abouts that.” Toki dropped onto his side on the bed, bouncing Skwisgaar. “There are a few things I don'ts like to talk about with that whole thing, but you cans ask what Abigail been up to. She wents to visit her parents for a while after she gots healthy enough to, in Barbados. Then she cames back to work because she figured she woulds go crazy if she didn'ts have something to do. So now she beens working on the west coast, just takings it easy.”

“She handles all dis okay? Likes you?”

“Before she cames back to the States she was goings a little stir-crazy. Sittings around thinking wasn't gettings her nowhere, but others than that she's been okay. She gets that me and her just gots caught up with some crazy asshole. Whens we was in the hospital. . .” a flash of old anxiety flickered in Toki's face, “Twinkletits came to sees us. He tolds us that we hads a choice in how we goes on with life, basicallys that we coulds either be victims or survivors. For me, Toki was sick of beings the victim. It wasn'ts easy to says that right away, but you know what I means.”

The shadow from Toki's eyelashes touched his cheekbones as he glanced down to where the Swede's fingers brushed his arm.

“Fors the record. . .” he said as he shifted closer. “I likes it when you ask these kinds of question. Is nice when you shows you care.”

Deeming appropriateness always hesitated Skwisgaar. How _could_ he empathize with what Toki and Abigail went through, when the details remained unspoken? He sought not to deepen his understanding out of respect. Toki probably relived his captivity with Twinkletits on a regular basis; he didn't need to do it here, too.

Regardless, a sense of exclusion dampened Skwisgaar's mood come Saturday, when Toki dropped Baldur off on his way to meet Abigail. Skwisgaar never did like it when someone other than him held precedence about Toki's life experiences. Of course he knew that made him a dick; Toki came to him about everything _else_ , far as the Swede could surmise. Advice, entertainment, companionship, and sex should trump the little twinge of jealousy for Abigail having something Skwisgaar never could. She didn't present competition, or even a threat. Since when couldn't Toki have friends? Well, Rockso and Magnus fucking him up offered valid reason, but Abigail was _good_ for Toki. He needed her.

 _You sound like a jealous, insecure girlfriend_ , he told himself. _Just quit it._

To still his irrationality, Skwisgaar attempted to come up with something on his guitar that might impel their studio work forward. Baldur laid near the door, working relentlessly at the massive bone provided, and wandered about now and then along with his attention. Paranoid the animal might need to go to the bathroom, Skwisgaar struggled to attach his leash (how did Toki make him keep his head so still?) and headed for the nearest exit.

“Can'ts you just find a spot?” he goaded the animal. Baldur pulled him along, nose to the ground. Toki told Skwisgaar to keep a firm hold outside, since the wolf recently got in mind that he'd love to go play with some of his own kind. If Baldur suddenly took off, Skwisgaar would have no choice but to let go. Either that, or be drug along. Hopefully the wolf didn't realize that.

Dreading getting back to work, Skwisgaar pulled Baldur to a stop when they came to Toki's room. The wolf immediately went to his bed, leash in tow, and watched the Swede with big brown eyes. Now came the opportunity; lack of knowledge for Toki's schedule made it impossible for Skwisgaar to sneak onto the younger man's computer. Laid out on his stomach, Skwisgaar opened the laptop. “Don't looks at me like dat, Baldur.”

Since when did Toki's computer have a password? It didn't late last night, when they caught an episode of their show before sleep. Oh, so Toki precipitated that Skwisgaar might try this? How hard could it be to hack, anyway?

More than likely, the Norwegian either used a name or some random object in his near vicinity. After going through the guys and all the friends Skwisgaar knew about, the Swede glanced about the room. His gaze landed on the wolf, who still stared right back.

_baldur_

_baldur123_

The desktop appeared. How predictable. If Toki _really_ wanted to protect his secret, he would've just deleted the damn thing. But no, there it was, in the same place as always. Anticipation jumping, Skwisgaar grabbed the headphones off the bedside table. He slightly suspected that Toki hit the record button once while they had sex and used it to get off. If Toki wanted something like that, Skwisgaar wouldn't mind. . .so long as it remained on a device that either couldn't go missing or be tapped into from an outside source. He could've acquired consent first, though.

Rather than orphaned as Skwisgaar expected, the track belonged to Toki's artist tag in his media player. This had nothing to do with the Swede; never before did he dabble in electronic music, nor would something so upbeat ever—

Oh. _Oh._ A new suspicion arose, compelling Skwisgaar to keep listening rather than seek out the song Toki possibly switched the track title with. His foot tapped against the wall in time, then flattery completely obliterated any doubt when the same line repeating composed the lyrics, _'Han gjør min hjertslag. . .'_

Skwisgaar set the song on repeat and planted his face in the blanket. No one had _ever_ done something so stupidly sweet for him. All the fans that lit themselves on fire, jumped off a bridge, or outright sacrificed themselves in his name couldn't hold a candle. Maybe his affinity with the Norwegian biased him, but good fucking _Odin_. The only bad thing about it was that he needed to carry on as if he'd never heard it. He couldn't text his gratitude, nor could he catch the man later; not that he knew what to say, anyway. All he could do for the moment was let his feet move back and forth in the air and hide his grin.

The strike of inspiration he'd lacked for so long finally hit. Unfortunately, it didn't occur for Dethklok. All his effort going into the band left no will to sit down and get out the song birthed the first time he and Toki slept together. With a couple hours until he could reasonably expect Pickles and Nathan to rise, the time finally came.

After making sure no trace of his presence existed in Toki's room, he lugged Baldur back down the hallway and dusted off his own computer. The lead and rhythm guitar lines went down quickly, followed by the bass after he grabbed one off the corridor wall. If this project weren't so personal, he might've asked Pickles to do the drums; however, he'd have to rely on the software. Perfectionism and familiarity meant it didn't take long before Skwisgaar listened back through a finished product. Musically sound, the only thing his closeness to the track cheated him of was how it objectively translated for the listener. He only intended for an audience of one, so that simultaneously eased and sharpened his keenness on how this may be received. Only one way to find out.

He hesitated after addressing an email to Toki and attaching the compressed file. Was this an outright admission? Would Toki be _that_ pissed, if he knew what the Swede did? Skwisgaar really didn't want to lie. . .

_'hey toki dont b mad but i ams going 2 admit that i went on ur computer n lisened 2 that song. I feel bad 4 doing it but i dont regret it. How come u wudnt show it 2 me?'_

It'd have to do. Skwisgaar didn't send it off yet, taking Baldur out again while he weighed the odds. He didn't want to lose Toki's trust, nor come off as someone that normally snooped through someone else's things. Really, if he never saw that song on Toki's desktop, the compulsion wouldn't have occurred.

A summoning text on his phone upon return to his room meant Skwisgaar needed to move along to the studio. He called a klokateer in from the hallway to take Baldur to his handler, grabbed his guitar, and paused at the door. Oh, fuck it. On a leap of faith, he jarred his computer out of sleep mode and hit Send. No going back, now.

Was it a good or bad thing that no response came via email or text by the time he, Pickles, and Nathan called it another night? Starting to worry, Skwisgaar's feet slowed when his bedroom came into sight. He had a feeling that whatever reaction he earned waited behind that door.

Sure enough, Toki came. The Swede hesitated in the doorway, anxiety alight, but the younger man didn't stir in the bed. In order not to wake him, Skwisgaar carefully set his guitar on its stand, slipped his boots off, and went through his nightly ritual behind a closed bathroom door. After ruffling the fur atop Baldur's head, he sat on the edge of the bed. Experience taught him that nothing more was necessary to wake Toki up.

Fingers folded together in his lap, he smiled when the Norwegian focused on him. “Hi.”

“Hey.” Toki yawned. “Wowie. I didn'ts mean to fall asleep here.”

Skwisgaar chewed briefly on the inside of his bottom lip. “Ams you mad at me?”

“Ja.”

“Dids you get de attachment?”

“Ja.”

“Whats you t'ink?”

“I loves it, but I don'ts like how I gots it.”

Skwisgaar directed his attention to his feet. “I apolgesac. I wouldn'ts has done it if it didn'ts have my name on it. Ams no excuse, I guess. I shoulds have respecksed your privacy.”

“Ja, you shoulds have.” Toki sounded more tired than angry, although that changed the longer they talked. “If I tells you to leave something alones, you do it. Is basics courtesy. If you has things you don't like _me_ to touch, I respects that no matter what. So don'ts do it again, you hear me?”

The regret Skwisgaar earlier professed to not possessing trickled into his gut now. “I won'ts.”

“Good. I sees you later.”

Skwisgaar remained seated as Toki padded out of the room with Baldur on his heels. He knew he deserved it, but that didn't make it any easier to take. Never before had pissing Toki off bothered him so much, and he'd done _way_ worse in the past. Squashing the urge to follow, Skwisgaar punched his pillow and tried to get comfortable. . .not that it would equate to sleep anytime soon. 


	8. Stressors

Theoretically, coffee _should_ make 8:30 in the morning easier to see. Three cups later, though, Skwisgaar still couldn't stop yawning. Company might help, if any of his bandmates roused yet. More than likely they set their alarms for five minutes to nine, intent to rise and head straight for the studio. Skwisgaar shared that line of thought, but stress-fuelled insomnia got him up long before. For a brief window he celebrated the possibility of landing more than four hours of sleep. Then, like breaching a dam, one fleeting thought returned the rest to full volume.

Everything snuck up on Skwisgaar in increments; now, it all became too heavy. Issues with the band's lack of progress underlined everything. His mother remained in mind, popping up at the most inopportune moments so that Skwisgaar could debate the pros and cons of responding to her latest attempt at playing nice. Pissing Toki off iced the cake. Not only had he lost an entire day to guilt and regret, all means to healthily deal with all other stressors vanished. At first he expected on a break day that he wouldn't want to see hide or hair of Nathan or Pickles, but he wound up drunk with the latter, slumped against the end of the man's bed while their avatars duked it out in some lame fighting game. While helpful, he certainly regretted it this morning; not only did the coffee not perk him up, it did nothing for his hangover.

Just as suspected, a couple minutes before nine, he walked into a studio empty spare their obviously better-rested engineer and producer.

“Morning, Skwisgaar,” Abigail greeted him. True to Toki's word, she'd spent the last eighteen months where the sun shone; darkened skin glowed thanks to its effect, brightening her eyes and smile. She'd lightened her hair a shade or two at some point. “To be honest, I didn't think I'd see _any_ of you right on time.”

“I can'ts promise dat anyone else ams coming.”

“Toki will be here shortly. He texted to let me know he's just waiting on Baldur's handler. The others, I'm not so sure about.”

The conflicting flutter and sour of Skwisgaar's stomach upon the younger man's mention compared not to what he underwent when Toki announced his arrival. Cheerful and enthusiastic, the man dropped down on the other end of the couch with his Flying V. As if Skwisgaar didn't exist, he engaged Abigail and Knubbler immediately in conversation, strumming absentmindedly through a warm-up. Meanwhile, the Swede's left-hand fingers blurred. Adding to worsening fatigue, his mood slid in a rapid decline. Perhaps someone more sociable than him could inject themselves into the dialogue, regardless of last night's fight. Standoffishness only made it obvious they didn't currently speak, although Abigail more than likely already heard all about it.

“I think it's fair to say that the others forgot our start-time.” Knubbler's nasally voice broke through the trail of Abigail's laughter. “Charles said to let him know if any of you didn't show up, and he'd make sure it happened.”

Summoning implementations commenced over Mordhaus' loudspeakers, Charles repeating himself until one by one Murderface, Pickles, then Nathan further partitioned the Scandinavians on the couch. Even though their bandmates no longer laid in bed, they demonstrated no use. A breakfast cart rolled in shortly after their arrival and stuck around until noon. Shortly after, Pickles dozed off on the couch. Nathan half-heartedly attempted to work on some lyrics, but grew quiet too frequently for anything substantial to be accomplished. With no guitar parts to be shown, Toki too fell asleep.

“Well, guys. . .” Abigail crossed her arms before them, at five o'clock. “This was a bit of a rough start, but all in all more than I expected for our first day at it together. Go take it easy the rest of the night, get a good sleep, and we'll try again tomorrow.”

Toki hung back to further speak with Abigail, so the rest of the guys gravitated en masse toward the kitchen. Free of the Norwegian to question how two more people in the studio was supposed to help, the other three didn't notice when Skwisgaar headed for his bedroom at the appropriate corridor. Until one of his various troubles gave way, he'd discern no appetite. Lack of sleep seemed the easiest to fix, but what could he do when everything else stunted that? A hot bath appealed, for maybe its lulling nature could bypass his other problems.

Submerging his ears beneath the water and closing his eyes soothed Skwisgaar; every few seconds, the drip of water from the faucet disrupted pressing silence. As his hearing adjusted, his heartbeat became audible.

_Han gjør min hjertslag. He makes my heart beat._

Sighing, Skwisgaar leaned his head back to fully wet his hair, then sat upright. How did _everything_ come back to Toki? This was getting fucking _stupid_. Since when did Skwisgaar care that they didn't speak? They'd gone months at a time without so much as stepping foot in the same room, over much less. Getting all knotted up over disregarding Toki's privacy for his own contentment wasn't something Skwisgaar intended coming into all this. Maybe he'd given up too _much_ control. He had absolute zero, all across the board. The band plummeted toward trouble no matter what he did, he couldn't jack off when radio silence separated him from Toki, and his mother once again stripped the lingering child within of his pride. How did he even wind up here?

Skwisgaar grasped himself under the water, but tapered off after only a few strokes. No. However frustrated he grew, a little voice in his head reminded him how he'd regret that. He'd trained himself too long, Toki doubly so, to compromise it over something that would eventually pass. Feeling even worse about his standing with the Norwegian, Skwisgaar clamped his legs shut. What the hell did he do with himself? Drink until sleep became not only possible but inevitable?

A pause separated the call connecting from a stifled yawn. “Hallo, this ams Tyr.”

Right; due to the time change, it neared midnight in Sweden. “Sorries. . .I didn'ts mean to wakes you up.”

“Who ams I speaking to? Ams that you, Skwisgaar?”

“Ja.” He paused. “I coulds call back tomorrow, if dat work better. I didn'ts t'ink about de—”

“Nej, is fine. Has beens a while since we talks, and I fells asleep for a while on the chair after dinners anyway. How has you been?”

“Okays I guess, for de most part. Stressed out. We comings down to de wire for dis next album and it amn't going so well. I's sick of everyone's faces.” A white lie, but Skwisgaar didn't feel like unloading all his Toki troubles onto someone who wasn't legally his stepfather anymore.

“I has beens meaning to call to see how you doings. I apolgesacs for not, sooner. Judgings by the TV, it has beens more stressful for you latelies than just because of the new albums, ja?”

“You ams asking about Toki? No, dat ams all okay. We don'ts fight over it and we just ignores what de TV say. It amn'ts anyone's business.”

“So longs as he make you happy, is all anyone shoulds really care about. Is all _I_ cares about.”

Skwisgaar could give a flying fuck if his mother thought anything but heterosexuality disgusting, but it would devastate him if Tyr held that opinion. An ache erupted in the blond's chest, for the simple life he briefly led while back under his mother's roof. True to her nature, Serveta made herself scarce for the most part, but he and Tyr had no trouble managing the household on their own. In fact, part of Skwisgaar suspected that Tyr might actually _be_ his real father. A passing comment one day relayed that Tyr hadn't been one of the thousands of men who came forward to claim parentage, since he understood that blood didn't equate to fatherhood.

“He does. He ams a good man.” Never having spoken to a parent about whom he involved himself with, Skwisgaar shifted awkwardly in the bathtub. “T'anks you for not saying it ams. . .you know. Wrongs, or whatever.”

The deep, distinctive laugh from the depths of Tyr's belly came through the phone. “Likes you say, it amn'ts anyone's business. Love has many forms, and it am shamesful that some peoples can't see that.”

Love was a bit of a strong word, no? Unwilling to add that possibility to the list of things keeping him awake at night, Skwisgaar deferred. “How ams Åsa and de kids, anyway?”

All fine, according to Tyr. Åsa dealt with the recent death of one of her favourite residents at work, her son just got settled in Umeå, and her daughter graduated from Stockholm University with a degree in Computer Sciences. Whenever Tyr spoke about his family, Skwisgaar tried to imagine belonging to it. He'd always wanted siblings, and Karl and Erika weren't much younger than him. Life as a regular jack-off always appealed more when this strain of stress afflicted him; it would be nice, not to carry the weight of the world on his shoulders. For billions of people to no longer rely on his creativity. But he couldn't escape reality, however he tried. Whether descended from the gods or man, Dethklok wrote his destiny. He'd never be anything less than a god himself.

Still, it never hurt to dream. The relentless fray of his nerves alleviated the longer he and Tyr spoke, mirrored in his relaxing posture. His hair dried by the time their conversation wound up. “I apolgesac again for calling so late. Next time I tries to make it earlier in de evening.”

“Nots to worry, its was good you did. Is always enjoyables to talks to you again. You ams a good kid, Skwisgaar. Take cares of yourself and tries not to let all the stress gets to you. No matters what, you always figure it out in the end. Have some faiths in that, ja?”

After vowing to try his best, they said their goodbyes. The bath water went cold, so Skwisgaar drained some of it intent to refill. Maybe now, with his worry chipped down, he could relax.

He heard a text come in from his semi-submerged position, jarring his relaxation's attempt to transform into sleep. After ignoring it a while, Skwisgaar reached for his phone. Toki. _'Where r u'_

_'Bath y'_

Just as anticipated, rather than a text reply, the Swede's bedroom door opened. A knock came at the dark, thick wood further separating them. “Is okay if I come in?”

“Ja, shore.”

Nerves hardly had the chance to reemerge as Toki took a seat on the step leading up to the tub. “You know what I hates about you, Skwisgaar?”

“Dat I's nosy?” the blond ventured. Odin, though. Hate was excessive, wasn't it?

“Well, maybes a little of that too. But mostlies that you makes it so damn hard to stays mad at you.”

Unsure how to respond, Skwisgaar crossed his arms. “I saids I was sorry.”

“I appreciates that you was honest abouts it,” Toki said. “But please don'ts do it again, okay? You never knows, I mights has been saving it for something special. Likes your birthday, maybe?”

“. . .Oh.”

“But I's glad you liked it, anyway. I was scareds you wouldn't, since it isn'ts your kind of music.”

“Songs abouts me am always my kinds of music.”

The Norwegian laughed, pushing more of Skwisgaar's apprehension from the room. “You's so vain. I loves it.”

With the air lighter between them, the need for contact went unchecked. Skwisgaar leaned over the side of the tub and hugged the other man as best he could. He pressed his lips to Toki's ear. “Seriouslys, though. T'anks you.”

“Ands to you. I's honoured that you woulds make something just for Toki.”

“Just so's you know, I didn'ts make it only because I listens to your song and thoughts I shoulds have somet'ing to gives back. I alreadies had it in my head.”

“Aren'ts you sweet,” Toki commented with a chaste peck to the lips. “Gets out of this tub, now. You's all wrinkly, and I wants to sees you. Don'ts bother dressing.”

Some concrete direction further unscrambled Skwisgaar's fraught mind. Good thing he _didn't_ jack off earlier; admitting that to Toki right after they settled their previous disagreement might've sent him right over the edge stress-wise. Instead, his body already hummed in anticipation. Quickly as he could, he brushed his hair back into a ponytail and dried off.

“Whats is this?”

Skwisgaar rested his head on Toki's knee, hands folded neatly in his own lap. The white fur rug made it easier on his shins to kneel, although his toes still touched cold concrete. Even with physical strain, though, one comfort outweighed the other.

“You beens good, otherwise?” Toki gently pet his hair.

“I tries.”

“Whats that mean?”

“I just about jerks off earlier, but I stops,” Skwisgaar admitted. “I lets all de t'ing I frustkrateds about build up too much.”

“Aw, poors little thing.” Toki chuckled. “Has beens a couple day for you, hasn'ts it?”

The Swede nodded.

“I's pretty impressed that you's ables to hold off on something likes that. When you first brings it up, I figureds you would has either lets it go after a week or be asking all rounds the clock if you can gets off. You gots more discipline than I thoughts. . .so maybe I shouldn'ts let myself have those little doubts anymore. When has you surprise me enough that I just takes it for granted?”

“You amn'ts mad that I almost did?”

“The point is thats you stopped. Is hard for _anyone_. You shoulds be proud, _hore_.” An affectionate tone brought the Swede closer.

“ _Din hora_ ,” he replied.

“Ons that note, come here.”

Skwisgaar raised his head when Toki shifted, silently watching as he unzipped his fly and pushed his pants down a bit. Having learned his lesson, he waited for the blessing. Toki still grasped himself, then laughed at the soft sound his cock made when he slapped it against the Swede's cheek. “Okays, for serious this time. Go on.”

Expecting the Norwegian to guide his head, Skwisgaar slacked to start. Toki seemed satisfied to feel how it bobbed though, to simply experience the zeal exclusive to a man intended only to please. Not long into it, though, Toki stalled him so that he could lose his pants completely. Skwisgaar yanked off his boots to help.

Keeping his gaze down meant Skwisgaar missed the younger man's wicked grin. He caught a glimpse when his head received a forceful shove downward and Toki's hips lifted. Resistance met him initially, until another chuckle sounded from above. “ _Gjør det, hore_.”

A hiss escaped through Skwisgaar's teeth when the rough compromise of his ponytail sprung tears of pain to his eyes. To contrast, a throbbing ache erupted between his legs with a hot surge of blood dropping through his abdomen. As often as he saw Toki's bare ass, he'd yet to go this far. He forgot that he'd once requested this. Without hesitation—trusting blindly that Toki properly prepared himself—he pushed the man's cheeks apart and acquainted himself with puckered muscle. The wrench on his scalp with only one test of his tongue resulted in a quiet groan. His head would kill later, but for now Toki only added fuel to the fire.

The Norwegian's disrupted breathing pattern encouraged him, as well. Skwisgaar double-glanced when Toki's perineum tugged upward with fervent assault on engorged, dark flesh. Between that and the unintentional noises bubbling up from the other man's throat, it hit Skwisgaar hard just how the person down here _truly_ held the power.

“ _På hvor mange skitne rumper har du praktisert, i gatene i Göteborg?_ ” Toki smirked. “ _Du er for god for dette å bare være din første gang._ ”

Skwisgaar couldn't deny possessing a seasoned mouth. For both, the flood of mingled praise and derogation propelled them on. When the Swede cleaned up Toki's last drop of cum, his tongue traversed the shallow valley between pecs.

Toki's eyelids fluttered open when Skwisgaar situated on his hips. “Wowie.”

No need to ask, if the Swede did good. For all the tension Toki's body lacked, Skwisgaar made up for it. His erection weighed between his legs, more on his mind than his actual physicality. After that on top of two days without relief, he would legitimately cry if Toki put it off any further. Curious what the younger man had in mind when eased aside, he remained pliant.

“You know what I wants to see, that I never has?”

“What?”

“You jack off.”

“Hasn'ts you?”

“Nots really, if we don'ts count when I's fucking you.” Toki pushed his cast shirt to the floor and eased himself under the blankets. Propped up on an elbow, he glanced at the Swede's cock. “Whats you waiting for?”

Skwisgaar reached over to grab the bottle of lube he'd taken to storing behind one of the bed legs. While usually jacking off with such need would make a quick affair, he decided to slow himself down. Any gracefulness about it obliterated with shaky hands. Although Skwisgaar operated such an act with an audience plenty in the past, he never really got into it. Who cared, if some faceless woman saw him tugging on himself? When Toki eyed him up though, watched his arm muscles strain as he pressed his fingers into his prostate and curled his own toes, even the lightest touch on the organ laid against his lower stomach threatened to end it all.

Wide eyes and a slack jaw became more certain when Toki shifted closer. The man pulled all his hair to one side. “Keeps fingering yourself.”

Skwisgaar's free hand flew to Toki's shoulder as a warm mouth took him in. If not for how long he waited and how aroused he was to start off, he'd be embarrassed at how quickly the Norwegian sat back up. Exhausted, he lolled his head in direction of where the other man plopped down beside him. A lazy grin said it all.

“Whatsever, _rompeslikker_.” Toki nudged him. “Maybes now you get some sleep, ja? Gets rid of thems bag under your eye.” 


	9. Desperate Measures

A heavy dinner to follow left Skwisgaar hardly able to keep his eyes open, let alone hold an intelligible conversation. He drifted off while watching their show, only waking up long enough to be guided under the blankets and told to sleep no matter how much sunlight still pervaded Mordhaus. The next time Skwisgaar opened his eyes, the sun poured in from a different direction. Summer air brushed his face from the window Toki opened, and some birds had perched nearby on the ledge. An arm laid over his hips belonged to the snoring lump beside him. Mirroring that deep sound of rest, Baldur's limbs twitched nearby, on his bed brought over from Toki's room.

Not wanting to disturb the Norwegian's rest, Skwisgaar carefully untangled himself and headed in to clean up. Wetting his hair in bath water left it greasy, as well as tangled again despite the thorough brush he subjected it to the night before. All evidence of their activities disappeared when he reemerged dressed, fresh-faced, and calm despite the day ahead. Coffee sealed his good mood; sipping from his skull mug, he situated on the corner chair where the draft raised tiny goosebumps over his forearm.

Speaking with Tyr resurrected something Skwisgaar fleetingly considered ever since he and Toki allowed themselves to sleep in the same bed. Of course, one part of him certainly loved Toki, in the same manner he cared about the other guys. They were friends with an abundance of shared experiences as well as a level of untouchableness by common people. At what point, if he and Toki carried on this way, did that cross over into something even _more_ exclusive? Skwisgaar possessed a distorted experience of love; his mother loved him like a mother did, but she rarely showed it. His fans loved him only so long as he kept them entertained. He'd loved women long enough to procure sexual favour unless Katrine, the one he took out a few times in Sweden, counted. While Skwisgaar didn't realize it then, their ungainliness as a couple didn't stem from his personal awkwardness. She mistook his experience with the opposite sex as translatable into a bona fide relationship; true, his departure spelled their end, but her naivety concreted Skwisgaar's romantic type. He didn't want someone like him, that'd seen and done it all. He wanted someone he could surprise, who'd in turn reinject mysticism into a world gone grey through nihilistic eyes. Skwisgaar impressed that philosophy on Toki, but the Norwegian always defaulted back to wonder. Even when their sex remained casual and Skwisgaar increasingly sullied Toki, the younger man maintained that component of his personality. Some things simply weren't meant to be destroyed. If _that_ was, Magnus would've done it long before the Swede had the chance.

The brown hair splayed across his pillow shifted along with the body it belonged to. A deep sigh indicated Toki's wakening, then he felt about where Skwisgaar once laid. His head rose and he smiled when focused on the blond. “Whats you doing?”

“Havings coffee.” Skwisgaar took a sip.

“What times is it?”

“We gots another hour until we gots to be in de studio.”

“Cool. Woulds you order me a cup of that too? I sleeps almost as longs as you, but I still nots used to gettings up this early.”

Deciding to one-up that request, Skwisgaar set his mug on the dresser and headed for the kitchen. Klokateers would get it to Toki much faster and with precise supplements, but the Norwegian would appreciate the effort. Sure enough, when the Swede made it back to his room, an arm around his waist and brief taste of minty toothpaste preceded Toki testing it. Skwisgaar led him back into the bedroom proper, resuming his seat so that he could watch the other man dress and comb out his wet hair.

“Dids you get any rest, at all?”

“Ja, but I t'inks I goes a bit de ot'er way, now. I amn'ts tired, but I's dozy. I sleeps too much.” The coffee would help clear that up, hopefully. “Not shore about how works will go. I guess we finds out when we gets dere, ja?”

Whatever attitude adjustment Skwisgaar underwent, it altered nothing for the second scheduled attempt at progress. Abigail wrote the day off as a small improvement, although by Thursday her annoyance and impatience manifested as crossed arms and a heavy sigh. “What's going on, you guys? You're not into it. You've had six months to get something done, and there's jack shit. No material, no ideas, nothing.”

“Hey, schweetheart,” Murderface butt in. “You can't rusch usch, that'sch what'sch wrong. We don't juscht pull gold out of our asschesch becausche you tell usch to!”

“I don't want gold, I want centuple platinum material. I can't work with nothing.”

“You sure say 'I' a lot,” Nathan pointed out.

“Okay, how about this? _You_ want a good album, because _you_ don't want to release a shitty record and be the laughing stock of the entire world. _You_ don't want to lose your home, _you_ don't want to get second jobs, and _you_ don't want to clean your own toilets when all your servants get laid off. Does that work for you?”

“I can't get a second job! I don't even have my GPD!” Nathan pushed his fingers through his hair. “Fuck, guys! What're we gonna do? There's nothing left to say!”

“Aw, don' say thet, Naaate,” Pickles slurred. “We got plenty t' say. You knooow, like thet. . .death herts. . .partyin's fuuuuun. . .eeeeehhhhhhh. . .”

“You guys have been working exclusively in here. Maybe you need a change of scenery?” Abigail suggested.

“Yeah, and go where? Back to the bottom of the oschean?” Murderface stabbed the couch cushion. “Becausche that schure worked lascht time. Yeah, we've written our bescht schtuff down there, and the scholitude, heat, and lack of natural light isch practically torture, scho it'd probably be a good idea. Wait! What am I trying to schay here?”

“That we need to torture ourselves,” Nathan summarized. “No, you're right. We're too comfortable. How the fuck can we make decent metal like this? We need to go to the most brutal, uncomfortable place in the whole fucking world.”

“Dood, with videos of people killin' each other everywhere!”

“Schnuff filmsch!”

“But it can't be like b'fore,” Pickles said. “I'm all good fer physical and psychological torture, but sexual torture's takin' it too far. We gotta be allowed to have somethin' to put our junk in.”

“The whole sub can't be like that, if we did this.” Nathan sat up straighter. “There's gotta be a work place and then a safe place, with air conditioning and that's quiet and comfortable.”

“Doesch't that defeat the purposche of having a torture chamber?”

“Yeah, well, if one of us is driven to murder I wanna know I don't gotta wait until we surface to put something between me and you.”

“Our headsch would explode first! Fuckin' metal!”

“Not metal if you can't finish the album. . .”

Just like any of their hare-brained ideas that got away from them, mutual silence allowed for contemplation over its validity. Personally, Skwisgaar could see from either side. The guys were right; they needed something to jar them from the hedonistic lifestyle they led. Their best music always came from suffering, and while usually an external source provided that, what lately disrupted their contentment? The reason they couldn't bypass their old material was a lack of experience. If no one threatened, attacked, or maimed them, then what could they expect other than writer's block? All the leftover rage and adrenaline from Toki's rescue went into rerecording and finishing off their last album with Blazing Star. If they wished to stay relevant—not to mention get this album done by its deadline—they needed to up the ante.

And yet. . .Skwisgaar couldn't ignore how nervous Toki grew at the mention of torture. Abigail too unconsciously shifted toward him. “Are you guys serious about this?”

“Dunno.” Nathan bowed his head. “We're getting nowhere, Abigail. We've got to do _something_.”

“The Dethsub has been upgraded since its last use, in hopes to alleviate the various issues last time we all descended,” Abigail reminded them. “Not that this is exactly what I'd call a good idea, for obvious reasons.”

“. . .Right.” Nathan glanced at Toki.

“I don'ts want to slows the band down, though. I does it if I haves to,” the Norwegian said in a small voice.

“Dat amn'ts fair, though,” Skwisgaar argued. “Dere gots to be a diffsrent way. Beside, is like Abigail say. We can'ts be tortured in de Dethsub because it amn'ts a t'ing what can does dat so much, anymore.”

“So then—” Nathan pounded a fist down on the recording panel. “We'll do this separate. In a different sub. Just you, me, and Pickles, since we're the ones writing the music—”

“Oh fuck you, I wanna come too!” Murderface cut him off. “I'm cruschial to the writing proschessch!”

Pickles chuckled and leaned closer to Skwisgaar. “I guess bein' in a sub wid Merderfeece is torture on it's own.”

“That would be ideal, as far as subjecting yourself to torture goes. If you four find some inspiration, then maybe—if we're lucky—we could jumpstart this entire process.” Abigail glanced at her watch. “Anyway, I think we can call it a day. I'll go discuss this with Charles, and you guys all think about it. Once you're underwater, there won't be much room for regret or second-thoughts.”

Nerves manifested as a flutter in Skwisgaar's stomach. Much as a feasible course of action and possible cure for this writer's block relieved him, could he handle torture? Perhaps the various ways Toki marked his body counted as such, but that belonged to an entirely different league.

The hot tub, thanks to the band spending such copious amounts of time together already, had barely gotten any use since they left for Seoul. Nathan suggesting they all congregate there to further discuss this trumped Skwisgaar's initial inclination to gauge Toki's opinion behind closed doors. He assumed the Norwegian would carry on anyway, to collect his pet and wind down for the evening, but he too tagged along to the recreation room.

Nathan drank deeply from his beer before addressing the others. “Well?”

“I think we know whet we gotta do,” Pickles spoke first. “Whet we're doin' now ain't werkin'. I'd do it fer the band.”

“Skwisgaar? You in?”

What option did he have? He didn't like being uncomfortable, nor the idea of being separated from Toki, but he didn't want to hold the band back either. They needed a quick fix, however drastic. “Ja.”

“Scho what kind of torture are we gonna do, huh?” Murderface rubbed his hands together. “Or schould we let them schurprische us?”

He, Nathan, and Pickles threw ideas around, while Skwisgaar tuned in and out between mechanically playing his guitar and checking on Toki. Why did he come here? Listening to this obviously made him nervous. “We can goes, if you want.”

“Is okay.” Toki wouldn't meet his gaze. His bottom lip disappeared back into his mouth, jaw moving about as he chewed on it. “I can'ts go down there with you, but I still parts of the band. I shoulds know about everything you guys doing.”

“Would, uh. . .hey, Toki.” Nathan got his attention. “Would it be totally not cool and over the line to ask if you have any suggestions?”

“Um. . .” Toki scraped at his beer's label with his thumbnail.

“It's okay to say no. That's why I'm asking first.”

Toki sighed. “I says this to you all. If you does this right, you's are going to find some dark thing insides you. You goings to hate yourselfs and each other. Possiblies the whole world. But whatever sounds you get from that, it wills be a good one. I cans hear it in us other albums what we write underwater, since it always kinds of hard on the nerves downs there, but it won'ts has ever been concentrateds like this before. If you wants brutal, this is the rights way to do it.”

Put that way, Toki so far was the only one brutal enough to work on this record. Nathan, Murderface, and Pickles too seemed to entertain that notion. If they caught up—experienced something akin to what Toki did—then they'd truly outdo themselves artistically.

“If you wants to be tortured, gives the power to decide what happen to someone else. It isn'ts all that bad when you knows what to expect, because you brace yourself.” Not exactly used to everyone hanging off his words, Toki's leg pressed against the Swede's. While the band stood behind him upon returning home, they'd never asked him for details. Nathan mentioned once to Pickles and Skwisgaar that Toki's ordeal would probably stand as great subject material in their music, but sensitivity dismissed that. “I was luckies to have Abigail there, and you guys will haves each other. Beings alone is terrifying when you gots no choice to be. I don'ts want to go into specifics abouts it, but I wants to help you. You gots to make sure you don'ts go too far, just fars enough. I don'ts want anys of you to _reallies_ get hurt.”

Silence followed, as the other four men stared into their beers. For Skwisgaar at least, it sunk in a little further what they poised to do. This could very well make or break them.

A quiet word of gratitude toward Toki on Nathan's part ended the conversation. The television came on out of habit, but no one paid it much mind. There had to be an easier way to go about this. The image of their shrunken, malnourished bandmate clung to the back of Skwisgaar's eyelids, enhancing hesitation sparked by survival instinct. Skwisgaar still held doubts, when he and Toki excused themselves to join Baldur in the recently built enclosure. The Norwegian took up his tennis racket, sending the wolf repeatedly down to the other end, while Skwisgaar laid on the cool grass.

“Toki,” he ended the silence between them, “what's you _really_ t'ink about all dis?”

The man grunted with the amount of effort behind his last hit for Baldur. They both watched the animal dash off, then Toki dropped down beside the Swede. “I meants what I tells all of you. I don'ts want you guys to gets hurt, and I thinks we all agree that we gots to do whats is best for the band. I woulds go withs you all so we coulds do it together, but I can'ts. I reallies, reallies can'ts do that again.”

Skwisgaar rested a hand on Toki's knee, nose wrinkling slightly as wolf breath touched his cheek. “I wouldn'ts do it either, if we hads any ot'er way to gets dis stupids album done.”

“I's not worried about the label, to tells you the truth. I just wants Dethklok to puts out a good album, because thats is what we does. We's the best in the world.” Toki smiled tightly. “We gots to sound like it.”

“Is true. We done some pretties crazy shits for de music's sake.” Who else jumped out of an airplane, or hastened the discovery of Earth's deepest places for the sole purpose of recording there? “Ams dere anyt'ing you worried about for us, or ams it just a reminder?”

“Oh, I's worried,” Toki confirmed. “I don'ts want you guys to get hurt or spooky. Well, you gonna get spooky if your head starts playing trick on you, but I hopes none of you is too prouds to get that craps figured out once you comes back up. I don'ts want you guys to change, or to get stucks inside yourself. It's a bads place to be.”

“I'll does whatever you t'inks I got to.”

Toki would know best, after all. He still lived in the aftermath, and always would. The Norwegian's hand closed over Skwisgaar's. “I'll takes care of you likes you took care of me. That's a promise. Things might get rough down there, but just keeps it in mind that you'll be comings back. That's is all what kepts me going somedays. You goes down there, you gets this record in your head with the rests of them, and then you return to Toki. I's going to miss you.” 


	10. Eve

“This idea is absolutely insane.”

“Inschane enough to work?”

Charles massaged the bridge of his nose at the head of the table, off-setting his glasses. To his right sat Twinkletits, then Knubbler and Abigail. Only the therapist expressed any sort of positive emotion, through a small, neutral smile.

“It _is_ true that your best work happens when under stress. If you boys are serious about this, then there's nothing I can really do to stop you. Does anyone want to step down?”

Skwisgaar, Pickles, Nathan, and Murderface all glanced at one another. Only the bassist seemed at all keen to go. The drummer and frontman, as far as Skwisgaar surmised, operated under the same logic as himself; no one wanted to be the one that reigned Dethklok in. Past experience left no uncertainty this would work, so at least it wouldn't be for nothing.

“As you've already noticed, I allowed Toki the option not to come today,” Charles stated. “Have any of you considered the uncomfortable position you're placing him in by doing this? Twenty months isn't long since his rescue. You're asking him to stand by and watch you subject yourselves to something similar to a very traumatic experience in his life.”

“He seemed okay with it when we talked to him,” Nathan replied. “Didn't want to involve himself, but said we would find brutality.”

“Did you ever consider that maybe he only said that because he doesn't want to disappoint any of you, or be perceived as a wet blanket?”

The Swede slouched in his seat under the weight of everyone's collective attention. “It ams a fine line. He understand dat it amn'ts real, but it make him norvous. He don'ts want us hurt, physicslies or mentalies. We has dones crazy t'ing befores to makes de band and music betters, and he said if he hadn'ts gone t'rough dat crap wit' Magnus he probablies would be goings down wit' us. Dere wouldn'ts be a reason nots to.”

The Norwegian especially squirmed at the notion that the rest of the band _needed_ something like this. In a way, Skwisgaar could liken it to his masochism: it didn't actually hurt, when consensual or requested. No one would whisk them away to the bowels of some unknown place; they simply submerged themselves into an uncomfortable and irritating environment in order to simulate how they normally derived their sound. While Toki understood that logic, he still chose to stay behind with Baldur when Skwisgaar left for the meeting.

“He will be happies when it am all over,” Skwisgaar finished.

“Part of my involvement in all this—and not to mention as little Toki's therapist—is to make sure he remains stable throughout,” Twinkletits interjected, metal fingers bridged together. “You will all be closely monitored by a team of professionals who will stay in contact with myself and Charles, so he'll know how you're doing if he so chooses. It will provide a sense of comfort and disengage his imagination from going overboard about what sort of maltreatment you're possibly suffering.”

“I ask you all again,” Charles said, “does anyone want to back out? This is your last chance before I put the order through to ready one of our smaller submarines.”

Silence.

“Very well, consider it done. We'll aim for a Monday morning departure, so take the rest of the weekend to relax and get your mind wrapped around it. I'll alert you all of details as they come in.”

Toki mentioned meeting Twinkletits in an unscheduled session, leaving Skwisgaar unsure what to do with the rest of his morning. Given the nature of Dethklok's upcoming descent, no time frame could be concretely set for when they'd return. This weekend might be he and Toki's last chance to be together for upwards of two weeks. After seeing each other every day for so long, disentangling seemed unfeasible.

“Skwisgaar, hold up.” Abigail's footsteps echoed as she pulled up his rear. “You want to grab some coffee? I'd like to chat with you.”

Agreement on the Swede's part aligned their direction toward the kitchen. However, after filling a couple mugs, they didn't stay there. Skwisgaar operated best in silence, had grown used to the awkward variety, but situating at a picnic table on the shaded part of the lawn prompted him to break it. “What was dis about?”

“A few different things, I guess.” She braced her mug with both hands, despite the warm weather. Unlike the Swede, her spine remained straight. “I've wanted, especially lately, to establish some sort of rapport with you. Sometimes I feel I miss things with Toki, since I'm only hearing his voice once or twice a week. I wonder if he's really okay, or if he only pretends to be. You know him, he's very expressive. . .so it's easy to take that for granted and simply assume he'd say if something's wrong.”

“I ams learning new t'ing abouts him all de time,” Skwisgaar confirmed. “Ams dere somet'ing you t'inks about in particlars?”

Abigail shook her head. “I respect his decision to stay quiet when he wants to, I'd just like to know when the call ends that he's not in a bad way. Would it be okay if I contacted you in that situation?”

“Ja, shore.” With that, Skwisgaar accepted Abigail's phone in order to enter his number. “I don'ts really ever notice him likes dat. I t'ink he maybe hide it from me. We didn'ts talk about what happen for a longs time, and I t'ink he play it down when we does.”

“He might. You have to understand, it's really hard to discuss with someone that hasn't personally gone through it. My family tried their best, but there were times when only talking to Toki would help. Toki's so much of a people-pleaser, too. . .he didn't want to burden any of you guys with it when he came back. I think it helped him for some things at home to have not changed, since he needed that stability, but I was definitely worried you and the others would hurt him through that.”

“Dids we?” Considering that Toki could've hidden anything, Skwisgaar second-guessed his assumed helpfulness.

“The others, but I think that had more to do with Toki easily feeling forgotten and trying to ignore any animosity for the sake of normality. He didn't want you all to regret coming for us.”

“We wouldn'ts has,” Skwisgaar immediately said. “We expecksed him to blows up on us. We knew we desorved it. Sometimes he am too nice for he own good.”

“I'm sure you know this by now, but you went above and beyond what either he or I expected.” A new smile birthed with the faint thud of Abigail's mug against the table. “He told me you'd been coming around a lot. I didn't want to put it in his mind that you were trying to take care of him so I didn't say anything. He came to the conclusion on his own, eventually. I guess you're not as cold as you put off, huh?”

“I's still practicing at dis whole t'ing where I ask how people am and nots lie if my stomachs might t'row up over somet'ing. Toki make it easy, since dere amn'ts a t'ing in de woorld I could say what he judge me for. He gives to me dat impression, anyway.”

“I doubt there is, so long as it's not harmful to him. He keeps a degree of objectivity that way. The way he talks about you though, how he carries himself now. . .whatever he feels toward you is unconditional. He told me during our captivity that no matter what you did, no matter how angry you made him, he couldn't ever completely hate you. Even when he knew he should.”

That seemed like eons ago. Toki once said that if they were capable of bypassing their rocky friendship they probably would've done so years earlier. How could they though, when Skwisgaar imposed such blinders on himself? Only in the last little while, as a result of Toki's discipline, did he truly learn how to put another's needs before his own. His youth taught him self-sufficiency and a mindset that, so long as his needs were taken care of, everything else would either fall into place or was inconsequential. Belonging to another person—submitting, serving—slowly chipped that concretely set mannerism.

“Do you love him, Skwisgaar?”

The Swede's stomach pleasantly dropped. His finger, aimlessly tracing the rim of his mug, halted. “Well. . .ja. We has knowns each ot'er for a longs time. He ams my best friend.”

“But do you _love_ him? It's okay to say no, I'm just curious.”

“I amn't shore. I haven'ts ever been in love wit' nobodies. I don'ts know what dat end of de spectrum feel like, so I can'ts really know if I's dere or if dis ams part of holding so much respeck for him.”

“Love isn't black or white. You don't have to teeter at one extremity for it to count.” Abigail tucked some hair behind her ear when a breeze rustled it loose. “For what it's worth, respect is a huge part of it.”

“It sound likes you want me to says I do.”

“He's a good man, and I want him to be happy. Whether it's you or someone else, I want him to receive as much as he gives.”

“To be's honest, dis has beens on my mind.” Just like when speaking with Tyr, awkwardness averted Skwisgaar's gaze. He could barely address such strong emotions on his own, let alone with a virtual stranger. “I agrees, he desorve someone dat care about him as much as he ams capable for it. I tries to be dat—it ams very importants to me. Whet'ers or not I loves him, I can'ts deny dat dis get stronger all de time. We has gones from cashwalls to monogsmous, to hangings out everyday and sleepings in de same bed mores dan half de time. I's happy wit' what we do, but dere am always dis part what say it amn'ts enough.”

“I'm glad you think about it, at any rate. It's so easy to hurt him, and with the pedestal he puts you on I'd hate to see all this crumble. His entire demeanour changes whenever you come up.”

Skwisgaar noticed too, of course, how the Norwegian differed between a private and public setting. “You ams very importants to him, so I appreskates your approval.”

“My approval's as easy as positive versus negative impact. So long as it's healthy, I'm happy. He's like a brother to me, and I love him dearly.”

Did Abigail attempt to discern whether or not Skwisgaar possessed or _reciprocated_ that level of esteem? Either way, he appreciated how her perspective altered that debate within himself. His inheritent selfishness made him forget to consider Toki's potential level of reverence. He wasn't the only one that sought the other's company more frequently; the amount of invitations and requests to share the Swede's bed balanced out. Toki, with his heart forever on his sleeve, _had_ to requite such deep affection. But then, why didn't he say anything?

“I can't say for sure when we'll next see each other,” Abigail stated as they ambled back toward Mordhaus. “I've got a flight to L.A. this afternoon, and only if this experiment fails will the label want me back here. So thanks for your time today.”

“Ja.” Despite some new things to consider, Skwisgaar deemed this constructive to their respective relationships with the Norwegian. “And t'anks you for your help on gettings us asses in gear. Maybes dis amn't goings to be much fun, but it wills be wort' it if we comes up wit' an album to write.”

Skwisgaar expected to find Toki in his room, even though an hour had yet to pass since he converged with Twinkletits. Its emptiness left him restless. Fetching Baldur from his enclosure helped, just for some other movement within. Bored and deciding to take to heart Charles' suggestion about relaxation, he snagged the Norwegian's headphones off the dresser. Sunlight streamed in his windows as the clock neared noon, turning the insides of his eyelids orange as he folded his fingers behind his head and sought answers in the song Toki made for him. No doubt fondness existed here, but could it really tell him anything new? He and Toki communicated better through art than personal expression (up until lately, at least), so the younger man may have placed something here that he left out of regular conversation.

 _He makes my heart beat._ It couldn't get more straightforward than that, and the line's duality pleased Skwisgaar twice over. Either he made the muscle pick up, or he kept Toki alive. Could that be what he looked for, right there? What else described love more succinctly?

His focus meant he missed the door opening and closing, as well as Baldur's nails clicking against the floor as he greeted Toki. Something brushing against Skwisgaar's forehead opened his eyes, then muffled laughter bypassed the music encased in each earphone. The blond barely hit the space bar to pause the music before brown locks pooled on each side of him and the ghost of coffee touched his tongue.

“How's did your t'ing go?” Skwisgaar asked when the Norwegian's lips moved instead to his forehead.

“Goods. Yours?”

“Same, I guess. We goings on Monday.”

“Ja, Twinkletits said so.” Pushing his headphones aside with a clatter to the floor, Toki laid on his side. “How's you feel about it?”

“I'll be glads to get it overs wit'.” Skwisgaar budged closer so that his nose touched Toki's collar bone. “But I don'ts really want to talks about dat rights now. I gots to deal wit' it Monday. For now, I just wants to. . .”

“What?” Toki nudged him, tone low and affectionate.

“ _Jag vill bli din_.”

“Whats is new?” Fingers crept into the waist of Skwisgaar's jeans. “You knows what I expect, then.”

Ever since he'd done it Monday evening after their fight, Skwisgaar developed calluses on the undersides of his kneecaps. His previously comfortable room chilled against bare skin. All week, as soon as they reclaimed their privacy, he'd shed his clothes and assume this position so that the other man could look him over as he pleased. The ache that developed in the Swede's legs usually went ignored; this time, Toki didn't wait long enough to allow it. “Come lays up here, on your back.”

Skwisgaar spread out before the Norwegian, folding his hands together over his sternum as gentle touch roamed about.

“I's been thinking lately,” Toki said, “abouts what you said when you gaves me your orgasms. Thats you wanted to be owned.”

Interest piqued, Skwisgaar's head lolled toward the younger man.

“I shouldn't say I onlies been thinking about it latelies. I beens thinking about it ever since you say it, mostly since it's so easy to jacks off to.” A corner of Toki's mouth twitched upward. “But latelies I been seeings it more serious. I sees how serious _you_ ares. You really wants it, don't you?”

Skwisgaar nodded. Any reservations he harboured when first voicing the proliferation of his submissive needs had since vanished. He not only could handle no control over when or how he got off, but found it electrifying when made to wait.

Before speaking further, Toki's fingertips traced a pattern around the Swede's belly button. Then, he bent down to nuzzle the small amount of body fat present there. “We can'ts really commit to anything when we abouts to be separated, but I wants to considers this a possibility for us to becomes.”

“What makes you change you mind?” Excitement sent a tremor through the Swede's nerves. He'd slipped so easily into the role—as far as Toki would allow, at any rate—and he could already imagine how fulfilling and satisfying calling the Norwegian his Master would be.

“For one, I sees how much you need it. I wants to be that for you, and is a no-brainer that Toki would likes to own you like that. You's orgasms are one thing, but everythings?” Stubble scratched Skwisgaar's stomach. “Likes I said then, I already feels like I own you, mostly 'cause I's not sharing you with no one else. There's something so importants about you trustings me enough to gives me all your rights. How coulds I ever turn away such a gifts as _that?_ ”

“Ones t'ing you was rights about am dat we can'ts do it all de time. We works dat way behind closed door, but whats about when we recordings? De t'ing about beings Master and slave ams dat once I claims any sorts of personal autonomies, it undermine everyt'ing.”

“We makes it work. Just because you woulds be my slave don'ts mean you lose who you ares. I loves the self-assertives bit of your personalities as much as your submissives one. Ins the professional world, you would stills be Skwisgaar Skwigelf, the lead guitarist of Dethklok. But aways from that, you's all mine.

“Besides. . .is not like you wouldn'ts try to provokes me for a punishment, right?”

“Oh, I don'ts know. I doubts you would punish me like how I wants to be.”

“You rights. It isn'ts a punishment if you enjoys it.” Toki sat back up. “That's one thing whats would be different, though. You cans handle punishment? Us nots talking after a fight is abouts as close as we gets to a punishment the ways we are now.”

“If I do somet'ing wrong, you haves every right to correct me,” Skwisgaar assured him. “Is parts of de lifestyle. When I's your slave, I needs to do t'ing to your specification. Slaves need punishments. It ams for us own good, so we can serves better, and we craves it too. Ot'erwise, why woulds we be slaves in de forst place?”

Toki's gaze softened. “God, is so hots when you call yourself a slave. I wants to keep you naked all weekend just so's I can look at you.”

“Den why don'ts you?”

“Ja, thinks I will.” Fingernails ran lightly over Skwisgaar's thighs again. “I knows I goings to be thinking about this the whole times you gone. You shoulds concentrate on the records while you down there, but I thinks you already gots all your thoughts about it anyway. For now, we shoulds figure out what we goings to do when we's apart. You won'ts be able to ask permission whenevers you need to get off.”

“I. . .didn'ts t'ink about dat yet.”

“I goings to give you permission to takes care of yourself. I thoughts about not letting you until you gets back, but we don'ts know how long you goings to be gone. I trains you a bit more, then I starts denying you for long-terms.” Toki sat up straighter. “My imaginations is pretty good about the things I woulds want to does with you, but some stuff don't seems appropriate for a Dom and sub. If you's my slave, I's going to push you to be's perfect. You's good now, I not sayings nothing against that, but a slave is a wholes different creature from a sub, ja?”

Skwisgaar nodded.

“You woulds want to be perfect anyway. Is in your nature. So we boths work toward that.”

Unsure how to express the magnitude of his gratefulness, Skwisgaar settled to squeeze his knee. “ _Tack_.” 


	11. Silence 011010701

Monday morning came too soon for Skwisgaar’s liking. He hastily packed a bag late the previous evening, weight settling in his lower stomach. At such a cornerstone in he and Toki’s relationship, he hated to leave. No turning back now, though. He chewed on his thumbnail as he and the younger man led the klokateer toting his suitcase down to Silence 011010701’s entry port, deep below Mordhaus. Nathan and Pickles already arrived, as well as Charles and Twinkletits to see them off.

“Where the fuck’s Murderface?” Nathan asked while hammering out a text. “He wants to come, then he can’t even fucking be on time.”

Charles cleared his throat. “Anyway, just remember what you’re going down for. Once the situation gets dire or if there’s an emergency, you’ll be brought back to surface. Good luck.”

“I’m here, I’m here, don’t closche the door without me!” Murderface came running and with that, klokateers filed into the submarine.

Skwisgaar turned to Toki. “I guess dis am it, for now.”

The Norwegian nodded and rocked on his feet, hands in his pocket. Skwisgaar tried to pull himself toward the rest of the band, but he couldn’t manage without a more proper goodbye. A hug followed a quick kiss—all he’d dare in front of the other guys. Even then, they groaned.

“Do we really need to schee thisch?”

“Doods, come on…”

“ _Jag kommer att sakna dig_ ,” Skwisgaar whispered in his ear. “I sees you when I get back.”

Torchlight disappeared with a closed door and the sound of dripping water was replaced by whirring motors. Like Nathan, Skwisgaar drew his shoulders in against the narrow hallway. He needed to bow his head, as well. Some of their initial brainstorming as to what sort of environment would inspire them came to fruition; muted snuff films and torture videos played out on plentiful screens, casting plasmic light about the structure and constantly reworking shadows. Campy, acoustic Christian music clashed with the grave images. Already, Skwisgaar grew annoyed. Just listen to those sloppy guitars. Ugh.

“This is your room, my master.” Smaller than a jail cell, it contained only a twin-sized bed, television, single light, and speaker. Skwisgaar sat down and rubbed his temples. The others’ footsteps faded away into the distance, and then the room blinked from white to red. Were they denied not only natural light, but colour too? Even the television in his room, portraying a woman’s inner thighs being cut into and individual muscles excised, turned black and white with a red base.

“ _Get in a love wagon with Jesus, he’s gonna take us all to Heaven…”_

The woman shook as she bled out. Whoever worked her over made it to her femur, sawed it apart, and then snapped her leg from the rest of her body.

“ _Get away from all the heathens, it’s such a happy place to be…”_

Skwisgaar laid down and faced the wall. Not entirely sure what to expect, he might as well rest. Sleep didn’t come so easily the night before as his own imagination formulated various possibilities. Twinkletits’ involvement in this experiment meant the torture to be primarily psychological. The Swede received a hint toward mild physical variations though, and already he started to get hot. Discerning no point toward them anyway, he kicked his boots off. Were they going to listen to this shitty music the entire time? How the hell did anyone expect them to sleep? Or was that the point?

The submarine jerked into motion. Skwisgaar attempted to distract himself from the clashing irritations by mentally mapping where they might be located in respect to Mordhaus. They probably headed for the strait that would take them out into the Atlantic Ocean. If memory served him right, they’d reach Andromeda’s Crevice sometime in the wee hours of the next day, not that he’d be able to tell; by having his phone confiscated upon entry, he had no grasp on time.

He already missed Toki. This wouldn’t be bad at all, bathing in the flashing light of someone else’s relentless torment with him. Would Skwisgaar, Nathan, Pickles, and Murderface be completely isolated the entire time, deprived of human contact and left solely to their thoughts? Skwisgaar already accepted not seeing Toki until they surfaced, but why not the others?

A klokateer thwarted his panic later. “My lord, you will come with me now.”

“Where ams we going?”

Skwisgaar had no choice but to follow, no matter what the hood said. A short-lived smile of relief crossed his features when he found the other three in a room about twice as large as the small cell alloted to him. Pickles sat against the wall with his knees pulled up to his chest. Like Nathan and Murderface, he appeared bored and mildly annoyed.

“How’re you guys doin’ so far?”

“I tried to schleep and the music’sch too loud. All I can hear about is Jeschusch,” Murderface complained. “Schome of the videosch are pretty cool, though. Did you guysch schee the one with that guy getting hisch nosche cut off?”

“And then they worked backward into his skull? Yeah, that one was pretty brutal.” Nathan peered out the bay window, into the slowly darkening depths. “I dunno guys, do you really think this’ll work? I don’t feel any different yet.”

“We jus’ gotta give it time, Nate. Thet’s all any torture is. It’ll get t’ you eventually.”

“We’ll see.”

“It schure won’t if you get all pesschimischtic about it.”

Eventually, their hooded escorts let them know when they would return to solitary confinement. Failing to sleep thanks to the shitty, loud music, Skwisgaar laid on his back, stared at the ceiling, and let his fingers fly over the frets of his Thunderhorse. Nothing new came to him yet, so he practiced his scales and then waltzed through Dethklok’s self-titled album. Not now but definitely sometime in the future, they should do a rerelease. Skwisgaar found a couple spots that could be rewritten. His fingers drug over the strings then, compared to now.

The next few rendezvous with the band were similar to the first. They discussed the videos and what they did on their own. Nathan already dictated some ideas into his recorder, but nothing worth sharing, as he put it. “When do we get fed? I’m starving.”

His answer came as four bowls of…sludge. Skwisgaar squinted at it in attempt to discern its true colour. “What am dis?”

“It’s nutritionally complete, sires.”

“That doeschn’t anschwer the queschtion.”

“It’s modified gruel. So long as you eat three bowls a day, you will consume all necessary vitamins, minerals, and protein in order to remain healthy.”

“I’m not eating it.” Nathan pushed his bowl away.

“You will starve, my lord.”

“Bring me whatever _you’re_ eating.”

“The crew has resigned themselves to the same diet.”

“You mean to tell me there isn’t one fucking piece of real food on this thing?”

“That is correct.”

Pickles tasted it. “Wouldn’ be too bad wid a beer t’ follow.”

“No alcohol either, beyond what you brought on board.”

“ _Whet?_ ” Pickles’ head snapped up from the bowl he hunched over. “No feckin’ alcohol? I already finished my flask!”

“I’m sorry, my lord.”

The klokateer left them alone with that news. Murderface managed to get the gruel down quite easily, mentioning having eaten something similar every morning for breakfast as a child. Nathan didn’t touch his. When they regrouped next, his bowl still sat on the floor, waiting for him.

“I gots dis fucking headache,” Skwisgaar mumbled into his knees. “Where you t’ink we ams? Maybes we am in de Crevice already.”

“You think _you_ got a headache? I haven’ let myself have a hangover for feckin’ _months._ ” Pickles pressed his fingers deep into his temples. “Oh my god, ‘n’ I can’t even drink again until we get off this feckin’ sub.”

Sleep came in periods. At first Skwisgaar couldn’t block out the music enough to drift off, and then a klokateer booted him out of his bed in order to join the other guys. Every time he closed his eyes in the common room, the music would jump so high and quickly in volume that he would be jolted awake. In and out of his room. Gruel. Jack off. Feel confused because he came just as a man had his spinal cord ripped from his body. Pull his blanket over his head to block out as much of the video as possible. Too hot, kicked it off. Removed his clothes. Convinced he wasn’t alone, so had to keep his eyes open. Everyone reeked. Nathan and he locked eyes and stared without blinking until their handlers returned. Bored. Wrapped around his guitar. Headache, need real food. Night or day? When did this end? Lost track of how many times he’d come and gone. Couldn’t remember enough to even give himself an estimate. Jack off, but only for some vestige of creature comfort. No libido to speak of.

“Hey Skwisgaar. Is all overs! Wakes up!”

The Swede’s eyes snapped open. The room remained empty, red, and illuminated with silent screams as a man’s testicles got cut into. False hope sat him up anyway, until a klokateer came. “Am we goings home?”

“No, it’s time for the common room, my lord. There’s food waiting there for you.”

“But I thought…” Skwisgaar trailed off with a sigh.

Murderface got drug into the room, then the music swelled until he resigned to sitting up. Skwisgaar retreated to the corner he’d claimed as his own. Nathan sat opposite and their eyes locked again. The other man shifted, flashed a knife down by his side, then reached up and slit his own neck from ear to ear.

Skwisgaar flinched and looked away, waiting for screams from the other two, but they didn’t come. Nathan still sat with his arms crossed upon further inspection, by all means fine. The Swede looked outside, instead. Not that anything changed. Staring hard enough brought figures from the darkness. Skwisgaar wouldn’t mind if they broke in and took him, just so long as they didn’t force-feed him his own skin like he suspected they might.

“Let’s pretend we’re in space,” Pickles suggested another time. “It’s prahbly the same deal, right? All dark ‘n’ quiet…”

The music played so long that it bled into the background. Only when Skwisgaar concentrated could he really hear it anymore. “Earth am destroyed and we am all dat’s left, floatings away wit’ only a littles oxygen and no ways to kill ourself…”

“O…kee, this game isn’t fun no more.”

“It’s too real. Fuck Pickles, pick something else, quick!”

“Skwisgaar.”

“Huh?” The Swede tore his gaze away from the window. The other three shrugged and shook their head. “Whats you want?”

“No one’sch talking to you.”

“Sires.” A sole klokateer opened the door. “You haven’t been eating enough. I’m afraid until you eat all you have, you will not be able to return to your rooms.”

“Then we’ll just sit here forever. Whatever.”

“Don’ feckin’ talk like thet, Nate! I gahtta sleep!” Pickles lunged for his bowl and shoved as much into his mouth as he could. While he chewed, his cheek rested against the floor. He curled up into a ball without finishing it and sobbed, then scurried back to the wall when the music fluctuated. “Okee, we gotta get outta here. I’m startin’ to freak myself out.”

“I’m not ready yet.” Nathan shook his head.

“Ams two to one, Nat’an. I t’ink I go crazy. I keeps waking up because Toki am telling me it time to go home, but he amn’t here. I can’t remember not’ing. Do anys of you know how long we been down here?”

Skwisgaar woke up later to find a man in a white lab coat standing over him. “Mandatory doctor check-up. Open your mouth, please. And close your eyes. This may hurt a lot.”

The doctor plunged his hand down the Swede’s throat, playing with his lungs and stomach. Skwisgaar grabbed his arm and attempted to push him off, but he wouldn’t budge. When done, the doctor retracted, wiped the blood away, and smiled. “All’s well that ends well, sweet boy.”

“You know whet I’m starting t’ think,” Pickles’ dreadlocks pointed in all directions and dark circles around his eyes enhanced dilated pupils. “It ain’t klokateers on the sub. It got teeken over by the feckin’ Revengencers, ‘n’ they’re tryin’ t’ torture us t’ death.”

“I wonder which one of us is gonna die first,” Nathan replied. “I’m so fucking hungry that I don’t even care. I guess it doesn’t matter if we call this off. They aren’t going to let us go.”

“Has anyone else had de doctor comes to their room?”

“Who? I keep gettin’ visited by this feckin’ priest.” Pickles shuddered. “’N’ he shows me pictures of all the kids he—ya know.”

“You know what _I’m_ starting to think?” Nathan hugged his knees to himself. “I think we’ve always been down here, right from the fucking beginning. Test tube babies. Anything we ever knew was just fucking hallucinations. None of it was ever real. We aren’t in a band. We just made that up for fun, like the space game. We couldn’t ever be that famous. We’re just a bunch of fucking idiots. No one knows who we are, no one cares. There’s no one named Charles, we have no record to write, and we’re never getting out. Our brains will die and we’ll just keep fucking living, staring outside, and making up games until finally we get fucking old enough and then we’ll sleep forever, no matter how loud the music gets.”

“I don’t t’ink de soul can escapes here.” Hopelessness swelled strongly enough in Skwisgaar’s chest for tears to spring up. “We ams immortal, and dis is de hell we lives in forever. We maybe alreadies die before, but we just keeps coming back.”

“Dude, don’t start crying.”

Skwisgaar pressed his face into the sweat-drenched denim of his jeans. “I can’ts do dis no mores. If everyt’ing am a dream, den why it gots to be so real feelings? I miss Toki. Why can’ts I dream abouts him anymore? Onlies his voices. Does he really not exist?”

“Who’re you tahlkin’ about? I don’ even remember a Toki.”

Skwisgaar’s shoulders trembled as he silently wept. That was it. He gave up on food. If death wouldn’t come so easily, then he’d inflict it on himself.

The usual, near-black red filtering through his eyelids turned suddenly orange, silence pierced the room, and the television went blank. “What am happenings?”

“Charles!” Nathan struggled to stand when the man appeared on the screen.

“Evening, boys.” Charles adjusted his glasses, seated behind his desk. “This is a recording, so bear with me. After being informed of your conversations, actions, and mental states beginning to fray, I have, ah, deemed the time appropriate for your little experiment to end. You’ll begin for the surface shortly. I’ll see you topside.” 


	12. Homecoming

The four of them weakly made their way back down the hallway they'd come in, blinking heavily at the dim torchlight ahead. Shadow obscured the faces of those who greeted them. The shortest slapped each of Dethklok's returning members with a robotic hand. “Time to snap out of it! No one did this to you but yourselves. You went down for inspiration, and now it's time to rejoin the real world. So go get some rest, clean up, and then get some real food in your bellies. And remember: none of anything you saw down there was real.”

None of that _seemed_ fake. Very clearly could Skwisgaar still see the doctor, and his paranoia persisted that everything, including their ascent, was just a dream. Sleep deprivation hampered his brain function and pervaded the belief he'd only closed his eyes long enough to finally see the face that continuously haunted him. He jumped when, upon contact, Toki's warm hand impacted his nervous system. “Come on, let's gets you out of here.”

Unable to think for himself, Skwisgaar went with it. Halfway up the staircase his weakened muscles protested against going any further. Slumped on Toki's back, the loll of his head offered a small window for sleep. He roused whenever the Norwegian stopped to bounce his slipping form back up. “You gots to hold on tighter, Skwis. Or else I mights drop you.”

Skwisgaar groaned when he couldn't open his eyes, due to brightness. “Where ams we?”

“Your bathroom. Just sits here a minute, okay?”

Forehead against his knees, Skwisgaar attempted to adjust. After—however long—without light, this burned his retinas. He must've dozed off again, since he didn't hear Toki come back. The bathtub ran and his shirt was being tugged off. He resisted a short while, then gave in. Whether Toki or someone else undressed him, they were stronger. “I knows you're tired, but I's going to get you cleaned up. You'll appreciates it when you wakes up and you aren'ts greasy or stinky or gots a beard.”

The filth came off in layers. Toki got into the tub with Skwisgaar and scrubbed his skin, worked at his developed facial hair, then repeated until grey water disappeared down the drain. They weren't finished yet; Toki led Skwisgaar to the shower next and let him stand beneath a cold stream as reminder what that felt like before lathering up his head.

“Just brush your teeth, then I takes you to bed.” Toki held the Swede's hair back when he bent down over the sink to rinse his mouth. “Last thing, I promise.”

The cool night outside lazily swept through the bedroom. Fur and cool sheets, rather than a hard mattress and scratchy wool blanket, soothed Skwisgaar. Finally, through his utter exhaustion, the notion that he returned home gained some traction. His arms tightened around Toki as they laid together. “Ams really you, amn'ts it?”

“Mhm.” Toki nuzzled the top of his head. “You's home now, and all thats is over. I's so happy to sees you.”

Eyes wet, the Swede nodded. “I hopes dis amn'ts just anot'er dream. I's getting real sick of those, t'inkings you am dere only to finds you not.”

“Twinkletits say you all beens hallucinatings.”

“I don'ts know how to tell dat dis am different. I nevers leave dat place before when I dream, so maybes it am. Dis am so much to takes in.”

“You'll wakes up later and sees. I'll still be's here and you'll still be's in your room.”

That was true, although night still pervaded outside and Skwisgaar didn't feel anymore rested. Silence made him nervous, but the attempt to sneak out of bed ended with a grip on his wrist. “Whats you doing, Skwis?”

“Turnings on de TV.”

“Can't sleeps?”

“I only wants de noise.”

A quiet murmur and flash of images in the background eased Skwisgaar's restlessness. The schedule in which the klokateers moved him back and forth between privacy and the common room became more apparent as he kept waking up to find night outside. No wonder he never felt like he slept. He continuously nestled up against Toki until told the Norwegian would fall off the bed if he pushed him any further. When sunlight streamed through his windows, Skwisgaar pushed the blanket off his back so that he could absorb some genuine vitamin D. A while later, he woke up alone. Next time, because Toki gently shook his shoulder.

“I knows you tired, but you shoulds eat,” the Norwegian told him. “I broughts you some eggs. Can you sits up?”

The room went with Skwisgaar, forcing him to push the heels of his palms into his eyes until the disorientation passed. He yawned widely as he stared at the plate set in his lap. Bypassing it, he instead summoned up the gratitude that should've come earlier, with being taken care of. “I feels bad for you bathings me. I bet I stunks pretty bad, ah?”

“I didn'ts really care. I's just glad you's home.”

The lightest touch of their lips melted the Swede's already weak interior. “ _Tack_ , anyway. I couldn'ts has done it myself.”

Taking a seat behind Skwisgaar, Toki pulled his hair back and nuzzled the crook of his neck. “Now eats.”

Skwisgaar underestimated how much his stomach shrunk during his absence. He only managed to eat half his plate before handing it back to be set aside. More important was his reacquaintance with the other man. After all Toki dealt with last night and Skwisgaar's probably haggard appearance, the Swede had no real idea how enticing he might be. The Norwegian jutted his chin forcefully enough to discourage Skwisgaar when he leaned in, but admonishment wasn't Toki's intention. His apology for too much enthusiasm came as a chuckle, a stroke down the arm, and their forehead's touching. “If I's was careful. . .”

A sizable chunk of Skwisgaar's submersion was spent doubting that his potential Master really existed, but it didn't stop the Swede from pining. Uncertainty crushed, the need for as much of this man as possible arose.

“Parts of me thinks you should just rest. I don'ts want to tire you out. But. . .” Toki's gaze flitted over Skwisgaar's exposed torso. “I's missed you too much.”

Whether the blond left for two days or two months, his body reacted under assumption of the latter. So much as being studied stirred something up inside him. “I missed you toos.”

“This has probablies been the longest you goes without sex ever since you even starts having it,” Toki remarked.

“How long were we evens gone?”

“Twenty-five days.”

“ _Twenty—!_ Ams you serious?”

“Mhm.” Toki grabbed the nearest pillow, set it down behind the Swede, and nudged him centre-chest. “Now gets comfy.”

A fu manchu and stray hair tickled Skwisgaar's stomach as breath cooled where the younger man's tongue traced. Three and a half _weeks._ Now that Toki mentioned it, Skwisgaar felt its length built up inside him. He'd jacked off, sure, but the urge slipped away after everything intensified. Poor Toki. For that, Skwisgaar expected the man would push his legs up and bury himself as deeply as possible before shooting one off. A greater need presented itself though, arching the Swede's back to get as close as possible to the Norwegian. After so much disconnection from anything concretely real, even proximity to someone setting out to right that overwhelmed Skwisgaar in the best way. The brush of lips and hair over his skin concentrated between his legs, then his spine jolted as wet tantalization darted and slid against his most sensitive place.

“Don'ts cum,” Toki stopped long enough to say. Why did he have to make it so hard? Skwisgaar's hands, compressed in the pits of his knees as he bettered the Norwegian's access, throbbed in time with the collective desperation of his body. He lost himself in headiness despite Toki's command, although the younger man let off before the Swede completely forfeited control. The sound of a bottle snapping open prepared Skwisgaar mentally; physically, while the swipe of lube was more than familiar, he pressed his lips together as Toki attempted too many fingers to start.

“I figureds you mights has tightened back up a bits.” The Norwegian pressed a kiss to the back of Skwisgaar's thigh. “Just relax.”

How _could_ he? Obedience compelled the Swede toward restraint, but he didn't even care if it hurt to start so long as Toki was inside him. In the state he'd been worked up to, Skwisgaar hated to wait while the Norwegian wiped his hands on a towel before crawling up between his legs. The chafe of clothing needed to go; Skwisgaar interrupted the insistent mouth on his neck by pulling the tee shirt off, and he felt a grin pull into place as talented, practiced fingers tackled the belt next. Denim slid only far enough over Toki's backside for the Swede's hands to plunge down the front of his pants, eliciting a shivered suspension for the love bite behind Skwisgaar's ear.

“I's goings to be lucky if I don'ts cum right away,” Toki remarked as he kneeled back to get rid completely of his jeans.

“If you does, you does.”

“I wants to enjoys it a while, though. This is mores than just abouts getting off right now, for me.”

For his lack of patience, Skwisgaar completely agreed. He quit grabbing at the other man as a result, raising his hips when Toki tossed the lube aside yet again. Tightness pressed the Swede's head back into the pillow and furrowed his brow in concentration to let this work. Toki was right; he _had_ tightened back up. Though this level of difficulty compared to the first time Skwisgaar ever got fucked, easing into it happened at a quicker rate. Breathlessness maintained a gap between their mouths, even with a nose pressed against Skwisgaar's and the brush of eyelashes over his cheekbones. The briefest kiss necessitated a deep pull of air, especially with how this position already compromised his diaphragm.

“Puts them around me,” Toki instructed in regards to the Swede's legs. Skwisgaar assumed that would offer them a rest, given his weakened state, but he pushed them for use. They tensed in time with their bodies, drawing the man near and keeping him there. Despite their earlier rush, the physical connection became secondary—augmented the reconciliation they performed.

Skwisgaar pushed Toki's hair off his face, back over his opposite shoulder. Not very often did they sleep together like this. Even the simple act of extinguishing pent-up tension didn't progress past a blow job. Their collective dissatisfaction with vanilla sex brought them together in the first place, although appropriate times called for it. Right now Skwisgaar couldn't handle much more, and being close to the younger man more than satisfied.

A seeming increase in Toki's weight preceded a wash of hot breath over the Swede's throat. The muscles in his back relaxed beneath flat palms, where Skwisgaar aimlessly felt out the severest scars. He allowed the Norwegian a moment of rest in his afterglow, then nudged his shoulder. “I can'ts breathe.”

“Sorries.” Toki moved beside him, where he wiped the sweat and cum from Skwisgaar's stomach. With that out of his system, the Swede's eyelids grew heavy again. He didn't think he'd fall asleep so quickly, but he woke up with an arm around his middle and his back sweaty thanks to the warm body pressed up behind him. The next time he and Toki were both awake, he apologized.

“Psh. Wores me out too.” Toki set his handheld gaming device aside. “How you feelings?”

“Still beats. I can'ts wait to be normals again. _Pff_.”

“It takes a while, when you got such a bad sleepings pattern. It wasn'ts until after. . .” Toki squinted one eye in thought, “Christmas, that I felts like I maybes caught up.”

A brand new empathy for what Toki endured summer before last burgeoned within Skwisgaar. Sure, maybe he himself wasn't degraded or tortured against his will, but the panic and uncertainty were all too real. Skwisgaar remembered the difficulty of holding a conversation, as the Norwegian stabilized in the hospital. Toki would doze off mid-sentence, and sometimes fatigue transformed his words to babble. While Skwisgaar, Nathan, Pickles, and Murderface were all glad to get Toki back, none of them truly believed they deserved any recognition or niceties from their bandmate. For that, the others kept their distance. Skwisgaar, on the other hand, spent more time in the hospital than out. Fuck pretending not to care. Toki deserved to know their retrieval wasn't based on their world standing, or anything else so selfish. He had a family, at Mordhaus.

Skwisgaar didn't fear the inevitable confrontation, since he knew he deserved it. He'd need to answer some tough questions, not only for Toki but himself. The band's denial and suffering couldn't be magnified or downplayed, for each extreme could equally devastate the Norwegian. When the conversation finally came, the morning Skwisgaar escorted Toki back to his room, the Swede wished he'd been yelled at. He'd've rather been hit than sit with his head bowed while he wallowed in the worst shame he'd ever experienced. As he left Toki to settle in, to reaccustom to the concept of a sanctuary, he sincerely doubted anything good could follow. They'd probably lose their bandmate a whole different way. Skwisgaar's friendship with Toki—fragile as it was—would deteriorate completely.

It didn't stop him, though; unless Toki expressly told him to fuck off, Skwisgaar kept going back. The others eventually followed suit, though to a lesser degree. While Toki more resembled a ghost through the remainder of that year, his form gradually strengthened. Then he surprised Skwisgaar one night by laughing to the point of wheezy silence while they cruised through videos of stupid people doing stupid stuff on the internet. More than the computer, Skwisgaar watched Toki. How reassuring that, after so much humiliation and terror, the Norwegian could bounce back. That reverence, reemerging now, shifted the Swede closer to him on the bed.

“Let's me know when you hungry. Jean-Pierre mades a stew, so I could go grabs you a bowl.”

“I thinks I's okay, for now.” Skwisgaar folded his fingers behind his head. “So what happens around here while we weres gone, anyway? Must has beens pretty boring.”

“Nots. . .nots too much. Um. . .” Sadness touched Toki's face, turning his eyes downcast. “I know you wasn'ts the biggest fan of him all the times, but Baldur isn'ts here no more.”

Skwisgaar's jaw dropped to mirror his stomach. “Whats you mean? He. . .?”

“He founds a way out of his enclosure and rans off to find the other yard wolves. Tooks three or four with him, but ja.” Toki sighed. “It happeneds a couple days after you left.”

Contrary to what Toki believed, Skwisgaar had grown to like the wolf. He hadn't noticed through all his sleep and a foggy brain that Baldur's bed disappeared from its usual corner. Damn. “Well, dat fucking sucks.”

Cheek on Skwisgaar's stomach, the Norwegian nodded glumly. “I's missed him pretty bads. When you got someones around with that much personalities, you feels it when they go.

“All the yard wolves what helps kill him got shot, and I gaves him a viking funeral. Sents him off to Valhallas, where he cans feast forever on Odin's table scraps.”

Skwisgaar rubbed his shoulder, stuck somewhere between gloom and endearment. “I wish I didn'ts have to miss it.”

“Sucks, but whats do you do?” Toki shrugged. “Everything whats I love die. I shoulds has expect it.”

“You can'ts help him runnings off like dat. It ams in his nature. And your cat hads de big K.”

“Still sucks. Just once, I want something what isn'ts going to go anywhere. Woulds be great.”

Pointing out his immunity struck Skwisgaar as a bad idea. He didn't want to implant any doubt that Toki's streak of bad luck—thanks to his magnetism toward sick or helpless things—might not one day include him. Instead, he attempted to smile. “He took some wit' him, ah? Must has puts up one hell of a fights.” 


	13. Negotiation

Even through the absolute worst instances of fatigue, annoyance that the hours slipping by turned into days ousted Skwisgaar from bed. His fingers lauded reunification with his guitar and flew through his scales as if he'd never stopped. Accepting that the submarine distorted his sense of reality, he delved back into that mindset and let the despair join his imagination to envision the next album. Unease forced him to take breaks, although he did so happily because of the connotation: he was ready to write the next album.

“Yeah, I'm ready.” Nathan gave a single nod when asked, in the hot tub. “Been writing some lyrics. If Pickles has his shit together, then I'm comfortable saying we might be ahead of the game.”

“I've been ready the whole year, but no one ever aschksch _me_ to come write,” Murderface lamented opposite them. “I didn't even feel any different down there. You guysch are a bunch of pusschiesch.”

“You were more fucked up than any of us.”

“No I waschn't!”

“You didn't say anything for like two weeks of it.” Nathan paused in channel surfing. “Then when you did, you got all fucking creepy.”

“Ja, you ask us if we beens to Hell, den you laughs and say when you meet de devil you ams going to pull he toenails off one by one, and force feeds dem to him!”

“I have no recollectshion of that.”

“You were acting all trancey.”

“Maybe now you'll schee why I'm important to thisch band. I might write the opening track, you never know!”

“Go on then, tell us your ideas.” Nathan chuckled, nudging Skwisgaar.

“Ja, go on Moidaface, _blows us away_.”

Murderface sunk further into the water. “Fuck you guysch. _Scheriouschly_.”

The frontman ignored him. “Hey, I forgot I recorded the season finale of _People Who Legitimately Believe the World is Fragile Enough to End_ while we were gone. Anyone wanna watch it?”

“What a bunsch of nut jobsch,” Murderface commented. “Yeah, schure.”

While some family scrambled on the television to fill their bunker with as much gun ammunition as possible, Skwisgaar fell back into mindless scales. The urge to continue working—possibly doing so in Toki's room, where the Norwegian finished up a model airplane—was delayed by his Dethphone buzzing beside him. He expected Toki to have discovered the Swede's empty room, but a strange number caused pause.

_'Hey Skwisgaar, this is Abigail. I realize I never put my number into your phone, so here you go.'_

Unsure what else to say, Skwisgaar tapped out a quick thanks before adding her to his contacts. Before he could set his phone aside, another text from her came through.

_'Toki said on Sunday that you guys were back. How did the sub go?'_

_'Good nathan and i r reddy 2 start recording. Not sure bout pickle but prb same'_

_'I haven't heard anything from Crystal Mountain, so I assume I'm not needed there anymore. What's the plan?'_

_'Not sure band meeting is 2morrow'_

Skwisgaar's thumbs kept busy as the topic turned from business to Baldur, then to the Norwegian. Only when Nathan elbowed him again did he pay more attention to his surroundings. “Is that Toki? Tell him to come pal around.”

“Okays, just lets me finish dis up.”

“Who're you talking to?” Nathan craned over Skwisgaar's shoulder. “Hey, how come _you're_ allowed to text Abigail and I'm not?”

“Because you sexwallies harrass her. Goes away.”

“What, and you _don't?_ ”

Skwisgaar narrowed his eyes at the frontman, then the bassist in turn when he sniggered. Good point, though; it hadn't even occurred to the Swede to do that. Any other woman he once texted only landed his attention for one thing. Proud about how far he'd come since narrowing his focus to one person, a smile curled the corners of his lips upward.

“Uh oh, better put your phone away, Schkwischgaar,” Murderface loudly stated. “Toki'sch here.”

The Norwegian padded over to the hot tub in his shorts, eyebrow raised at the bassist as he dropped his towel on top of Skwisgaar's. “Whats you going on abouts, now?”

“Schkwischgaar'sch texchting a _lady,_ ” Murderface enunciated best he could.

“Fucks off, Moidaface. All you does is make trouble.”

“Yeah, shut the fuck up. Quit involving yourself with—them. It's weird.” Nathan sipped his beer. “If Toki has a problem with Skwisgaar talking to Abigail, let them figure it out on their own.”

“I didn'ts know you and Abigail evers talk,” Toki commented.

Annoyance toward the bassist's catgrin—since he'd gotten what he wanted—rolled Skwisgaar's eyes. What a quick way to ruin the lax atmosphere of the recreation room. He didn't want to explain in front of his other bandmates, nor should he and Toki have to leave in order to clear the air. The Swede glared at Murderface as the Norwegian scrolled through his texts.

“Whats is the big deal?” Toki asked when he reached the bottom. “Quit fuckings around, Moidaface. I still hasn'ts forgiven you for outtings us. Hopes you happy—I don'ts feel like hanging outs with you anymore.”

“Why would I care— _ow!_ Geezsch!” Murderface clutched his nose when Toki punched him on his way out. “Asschhole!”

“Maybes now you learns your lesson. Don'ts fuck around with me like that.”

Skwisgaar followed him out. For fuck's sake. Did he explain, or not? He shouldn't have to, but thanks to the bassist's slant, what other choice did he have? Toki faced a similar dilemma—if he asked for an explanation, did he really question why Skwisgaar was in contact with one of his friends, or was it simple curiosity?

“Dat fuckings idiot,” Skwisgaar commented as he finished towelling off in his room. “I gaves Abigail my number because she wanteds to be able to text me once in a whiles to see how you ams doing.”

“I trusts you and her mores than anyone else in the world,” Toki replied. “But I hates when he talk like that. Is it so hards for him not to tries and wreck people's lives?”

“ _Pff_ , apparentlies. Why he gots to make t'ing awkward? You don'ts really t'ink I woulds ever do somet'ing like dat, does you?”

“If I ever hads to ask you to stop sleepings with other people, then maybes. We ins a bit too deep now for that kinds of crap.” Toki smirked when Skwisgaar's bathing suit hit the floor. “No one's ever had Skwisgaar Skwigelf ask to be's their slave, so fucks him.”

Mention of that halted Skwisgaar in both movement and thought. His general lack of energy and scattered brain disallowed them to discuss something so serious so soon after his return home. What about now? Even before Toki spoke, Skwisgaar forewent the idea to dress.

“Stays like that. I's going to go get clothes on, then I comes back.” Toki's departure set Skwisgaar's heart into a pound. He sat on the edge of his bed to start, then slid forward to the floor. Who decided Mordhaus should be made of stone, anyway? Oh well. . .the more it hurt, the greater will necessary to make it work.

Toki paused upon return, then squatted before the Swede. “I knows you excited, but this kinds of thing gots to wait until after we's done talking. You aren'ts my slave yet.”

“Then why ams I naked?”

“Psh.” The Norwegian helped Skwisgaar up. “Because I likes to look at you. I wants you sitting up besides me right now, though.”

Further toeing the fine line between equality and an off-balance of power, Toki nudged Skwisgaar's legs apart. “I wants you to tell me again: what does beings a slave mean to you? Whats do you wants out of it? How woulds it be different than whats we do now, in you mind?”

Where did Skwisgaar even start? He'd spent many nights figuring that out for himself. While he'd managed to organize certain aspects of this need into coherence, threading all that together proved a new hurdle altogether. “It ams de opportunity to gives you more of myself dan I already has. I trusts you enough to haves complete controls, dat you knows my limits enough for me nots to have a safe word or bells, anymore. It ams hard to explain why I needs it so bad, but I does. Dere am somet'ing so liberatings about not having my own thoughts and decision, and I don'ts got to worry dat you woulds abuse dat power. You has de sense to keep certains t'ing—like de band—out of it. After de experience we has toget'er, I can says wit' confidence dat you gots dis in you. For me to be's you slave, it woulds mean dat I forfeits my right to you. Dat I becomes you property. You cans do whatever you wants wit' me, or to me. You don'ts have to gets my consent for sex. You cans push whatever limits you want. You coulds even gives me away.”

“I don'ts like to share my things,” Toki breezed that notion away. “But I sees that what we consider ares the same. Likes I told you when you first brings it up, some parts of me felts like I already own you. The more I thoughts about beings your Master, the mores I wants from you. Maybes is a bad thing that sometimes I gets the urge to bends you over a table and fucks you even though you struggle, but it doesn'ts do nothing for me unless you ackslies want it.”

“It ams a taboo to wants to, since it ams rape if you does dat wit'out consent. But I's giving you dat. I _wants_ you to force me, to strips me down like I amn'ts wort' not'ing more dan my body. Ins de sense of how dis kind of relatesingip work wit' us, I's your object to does whatever you wants to.”

“I's curious: whats if there something I wants to do that we didn'ts do or talks about before, and you reallies don't want it? How woulds I know, if sayings no mean yes and we don'ts have a safe word?”

“You am still frees to ask me.” Skwisgaar nudged his leg. “Dat ams one of de big miscongeptions about a Master/slave relatesingip. I don'ts go silent after we figures out us terms. Likes how we ams talking now: evens though I wants to be your slave, I makes it very clear what woulds be good or bad for me. I don'ts want to be abused. I don'ts want to be less dan a porson in de eye of de law. I just wants to serve, to be's obedient, and to be takens care of de same way I takes care of _you_ , wit' dis. If you gots reservations about somet'ing, den ask. It don'ts make you less of a Master, which ams anot'er miscongeption. A Master amn'ts just lookings for someone to boss arounds. He cares about he slave. . .and dat ams true for you, amn'ts it?”

“Mhm.” Toki used Skwisgaar's stomach as a pillow. “I don'ts want you to think that I don'ts know anything about this. I's looked into it a bit, but no one say the same thing, so I guess is hard to figures out what it mean for us until we talks about it. Because it woulds be really hard to pretends like I don'ts care about you all the sudden, just to fits a role.”

“And I t'inks dat am what woulds make you good at dis. You amn'ts coming into it lookings to really hurt me. Is like gettings whip, for me. I needs to be controlled and degraded. Is why I enjoyeds being a sub, although lookings back I was easings my way into dis. It was goods practice for us, to gets comfortable wit' our sexuality and wit' each ot'er.”

“I've hads things I want to does with you, that I couldn'ts do when we were onlies doing this once in a while. I thinks, even though we didn'ts intend for it, this becames more than a sometimes thing. Was natural, with how much we pals around. I don'ts want you on your knees all the time, much as I likes it. I still wants you to be my friend, and of course I don'ts want this to affects how we are in the band. It hasn'ts really, unless you counts Moidaface tryings to make us fight for his entertainments. . .” Toki glowered. “But the points is that you can counts on me not to try and mess you up as lead guitarist by makings it conflict with us. I wouldn'ts do that to you. Dethklok is importants to both of us.”

Skwisgaar's hand snuck up the bottom of Toki's jeans, to play aimlessly with his leg hair. “I figureds if you was goings to do dat, you woulds has by now.”

“Probablies.” Toki chuckled. “So comings back around to how we starts this talk, I think we gots the same thing in mind in how we woulds function this way. Really, we beens practicing it for a whiles, now. I'ves gotten comfortable with your limits, and the things what we likes to do are similars enough that you don'ts got to worry about me going outsides of that.”

“I'ms curious. What does beings a Master means for you?”

“I tells you this first. I's realizing that dominatings you, whether as a Dom or a Master, gots the same kind of outcome for me as you. I's not talking about gettings it out of my system, but how I's being disciplined. Is a bigs responsibility, to has your trust, and I's learning more all the time how to keeps myself from losing control or goings over boundaries. I got so much respecks for you, Skwis. I wouldn'ts even know how to puts it into words. So for beings a Master, is for me nots only about controlling but using what I knows about you to helps you become all whats you can be. Thats is what I wants out of this, too. This has been such a journeys with you, since I's watched you becomes a stronger, more confident person. You mights has been arrogant before, but you wasn'ts confident. You mades yourself seems like you aren'ts human, like you don'ts live on the same plane as the rest of us. You was quiet and full of secrets. That isn't the truth so much, no mores.”

“Maybes not wit' you.” Then again, Skwisgaar caught Pickles off his guard by palling around with him that day, and even while texting Abigail he didn't give much a second thought toward sharing the odd banal detail of his life. Before, he assumed people simply didn't care enough to know about his inner tickings. He played guitar well, which was all anyone should really care about in Dethklok, and they couldn't escape how many women he used to bed. Fucking and music, that was his reputation to date.

“You comings into yourself, and that's a magnificents thing. Seriouslies, it take my breaths away. So don'ts downplay it, ja?”

“You's always been more confidents dan me. You never lies to make youself more interesting, you gots no problems making friends, and you's been so good about dis right from de beginning. I worrieds a bit dat you mights lose your nerve, after we talks about what kind of t'ing am acceptable for us to does. You lookeds a bit overwhelmed.”

“I was,” Toki admitted with a grin. “But the first things I did when we wents our separate ways was jack off.”

“Ja, me too.”

“I hads to work myself ups to it. Fors a little bit it made me feel better just knowings I had the freedom to do somethings to you if I wanteds, but. . .ja. That wasn'ts enough, turns out. Sometimes I don'ts know what _will_ be's enough, with you. Maybes I been easing my ways into this, too. How much more coulds I get, once I gots all of you? Once I gots the freedom to does not just something, but _anything?_ ”

Skwisgaar scratched lightly at Toki's calf. “So whats kind of t'ing dids you want to does wit' me before, what you couldn'ts?”

“I thinks a lot abouts you like an object. I wants to holds you down and haves my way with you, use you likes furniture, keeps you naked like you just a decoration. . .” Toki trailed his fingers over Skwisgaar's half-hard cock, “edge you and leaves you with blue balls, makes you beg for it after nots letting you cum for days, locks you up in a chastity thing. Stuffs like that. There's something so hots about you beings horny all the time and havings no way to fix it unless I says so. And you don'ts look like you gots a problem with any of that.”

The Swede let out a long exhale. “I don'ts.”

“Thats is why it didn't really works, when you trieds to train me. I coulds do it, but it wasn'ts as comfortable as this. In a way you still gots control over me, but is different. You trains me to be a better Dom by being such a good sub. You makes me want to be the best I can be, and I's always thinking about you and what's best for yous. And it works for us, ja?”

“We wouldn'ts be talking about dis if it didn't.”

Toki turned to lay face-to-face with Skwisgaar. “So you wants to do this, then? Ares you ready to be completely mine?”

“Dis ams a long time coming, for me.” Skwisgaar touched his arm. “If you'lls take me, I'ms yours.”

Wide grin overtaking his face, Toki shifted closer. It made sense then, why sacred and binding arrangements were sealed with a kiss. They could say all that wanted; nothing concreted it like the fervency slowing dropping from the Swede's chest to his lower abdomen. Even calloused fingertips drawing lazy circles on his hips took on a new meaning. He had no control to stop it, to stop _any_ of the younger man's whims and, more importantly, he didn't want to. As they laid looking at each other, reading into the nuances of their cinched dynamic, Skwisgaar awaited his first command.

“Just lets me look you over.” Toki's touch moved from hip to stomach. “I needs to let this sink in a bits more.” 


	14. Mästare

“Afternoon, everyone. Seems you're all, ah, bouncing back nicely. So if you're feeling up to it, perhaps we should discuss heading back to Andromeda's Crevice.”

“We juscht _schpent_ a month there. No! Fuck no! I vote that we juscht record in the schtudio.”

“I for one side with Charles on this,” Nathan countered. “It's the only place to get the sound we need. And I'm not letting that fucking nightmare be all for nothing. We're gonna keep the album we record this time, because we're gonna do it right.”

“We goings in de big sub, ja?” Skwisgaar asked.

“Yes,” Charles confirmed. “After all its reworking, you won't even realize you're underwater if you stay in the wide open areas.”

“And I for one believe the only way to harness the blackness that found us there is to be reminded of it in a safe, moderated environment.” Nathan bared his teeth. “Let's do this. I'm ready to go.”

Descent set for Monday morning reinstated anxiety in Skwisgaar. At least this time it would be relatively comfortable, and Toki would be coming. Skwisgaar doubted it would take them an entire three months to record the album, if all went well. So he hoped, anyway. Pressure from Crystal Mountain aside, he didn't want to spend his entire summer in darkness.

Without instruction when he and Toki entered his room, Skwisgaar undressed. His clothes took his worries with him, and a gentle squeeze of his ass pushed his mood in the other direction entirely. “Takes it easy for a bit. Go lays down.”

Soft fur brought Skwisgaar right back to the morning, before he'd managed to ride out a neglected erection. Toki jacked off on the bed beside him, but still denied the Swede any sort of contact. Laying on his stomach with his gaze on the younger man, the sweet taste of cum and sweat touched the tip of his tongue again.

Toki pulled Skwisgaar's empty luggage from his closet. Before the Swede could inquire, Toki opened the bottom drawer of his dresser, transferred a pile of grey jeans into the suitcase, then stalled when he found other pants squished in behind. “How comes you never wear these?”

“I gets into de habit of grabbing whatevers I see forst, I guess.”

“Hm.” Toki tossed them in. “I gets tired of seeings you in the same kinds of thing, all the time. You going to starts wearing different stuff.”

“Ja, _Mästare._ ” The swelling between Skwisgaar's legs worsened, even more so when shifting added a pinch. Certain Toki could tell when he looked over, the blond obscured the bottom half of his face behind the bunched up blanket.

“You gots to have more restraint than thats,” Toki remarked. Digging around in the top drawer produced the largest butt plug Skwisgaar owned. “Ass up, _hore_.”

The Swede's cock twitched as Toki moved behind him. Going rock hard so suddenly made his head spin; he grinned with his face pressed into the blanket as Toki infiltrated his body with impersonal fingers. Surely, the man could feel him tremble beneath the hand rested on his lower back. How incredibly lucky would Skwisgaar be, if his balls didn't fill with blood as Toki returned to his previous focus? Silicone tested the physical limits of the blond's muscle and forced him to swallow a deep moan.

“There. Keeps your hands where I can see them, now.”

“Ja, _Mästare_.” Lowering himself back to the bed required diligence. Trapped between Skwisgaar's abdomen and the bed, it took every ounce of restraint for him not to hump with abandon and get rid of this. Skwisgaar took a deep breath instead, found a position where the plug didn't angle so tormentingly, and rested his head on folded arms. “ _Tack_.”

“Onlies a slut as bigs as you would gets this horny over something so small. It isn'ts about sex, all the time.” The hint of a smile undermined Toki's admonishment. “So calms down.”

Skwisgaar attempted to remove himself from the primitivity of his body by concentrating on Toki packing his clothes. Such an inoccuous act shouldn't make it worse, but how else was Skwisgaar supposed to react to his Master making such basic choices for him? His hammering heart reverberated throughout his entirety, though eventually sunk into prickles at its most concentrated spot.

“Aw, looks at that,” Toki said later when he inspected the damage. “I wouldn'ts want to wreck such a nice shades of blue.”

A hopeful string of precum left a wet spot on Skwisgaar's lower abdomen. Sitting up on the edge of his bed, with the plug's flanged base pressing against his entrance, his toes curled as Toki gave his aching balls a gentle squeeze.

“Put these on.” Toki set a white tee shirt and dark pair of sweatpants beside him. “We's gonna go to my room. I wants to show you something.”

Desperate reemergence of his erection forced Skwisgaar to obscure it behind his hands. He walked funnily enough, in attempt to keep the plug from potentially slipping. Luckily, other than a single klokateer, they didn't meet anyone.

“Sits on the bed.” Toki dug about in his closet. Rather than pack his own things, as Skwisgaar assumed he would do, a small lockbox came out. “Hands me the key, from the bedside drawer.”

Skwisgaar noticed it in the corner whenever need for lube gave him reason to rifle through Toki's things. He folded his fingers patiently over his lap as the Norwegian cracked the box, then his head tilted by its own accord as he studied the contents within. Toki never mentioned his use of toys when alone, although the younger man took his advice about acquiring some butt plugs. Before Skwisgaar could formulate that image, Toki's rummaging ended and he set the box aside.

Forlornly, Skwisgaar took what he held out. “Dis am—”

“You've gots two days left of freedoms. I mights let you cum befores I lock you up, dependings on how I feel.” The clear, polycarbonate material glinted in the light, wavering to the tune of Skwisgaar's trembling fingers. Was Toki _trying_ to torture him, right now? “The only reason I's waiting is because I don'ts want anyone to sees it through your pants when we goings onto the Dethsub.”

Charles mentioned their submersion would be a highly publicized event. Not only did the world eagerly await their next release, but none of Dethklok's members had been seen in public since their Seoul show. Toki admitted not long after Skwisgaar's return that he'd started following the media's perception of them out of boredom. Not much changed. The majority of opinions still pinned them as a couple, though some believed constant media attention had broken them up. Toki found it funny, how obsessively some people read into their every interaction for hint about what happened behind Mordhaus' guarded doors. The silhouette of a chastity device under Skwisgaar's jeans would keep them all preoccupied for a long, long while.

A hand formed a fist in Skwisgaar's hair. The thrum of electricity in his nerves intensified, doubly so as a mouth touched his ear. “Though I wouldn'ts mind letting them know that you couldn't sleeps with anyone else even if you wanteds to, because only _I_ gots the key to your cage.”

Cheat? That couldn't be further from Skwisgaar's mind, right now. He hissed lightly as Toki twisted his grasp, then stabilized against the Norwegian's thigh.

“Nots like you allowed to cum, anyway.” Despite that, Toki slipped his other hand down Skwisgaar's pants. A contented groan resonated down the Swede's ear canal as the younger man carefully stroked his throbbing cock. “Lays down on your back, head ats the end of the bed.”

While Toki stood and pulled his shirt off, Skwisgaar adjusted his pants. Keeping them on made it difficult for his erection, comically tenting at the crotch. A command to leave it folded Skwisgaar's hands over his stomach instead. The Norwegian's jeans hit the floor and drew the Swede's attention immediately to the mirrored affliction. His own twitched in response.

Never knowing entirely what might be in store for him activated Skwisgaar's imagination. He arched his back in attempt to gain more pressure from the butt plug when Toki gauged him from the bedside. After a couple automatic strokes to himself, the mattress gave a short protest as Toki straddled Skwisgaar about his waist and inched closer. “You aren'ts getting off yet, so don'ts even bother thinking about it.”

“Ja, _Mästare_.”

“ _God gutt_. Now sucks me off.”

From this angle, Skwisgaar noticed more than ever just how muscular Toki's thighs were. They tensed and shifted beneath his hands in time with the Swede's ministrations. His abdomen reacted similarly, causing Skwisgaar to wish his mouth could be in two places at once. He loved how the younger man's body contoured, not to mention how his external strength reflected that which he became personally familiar with. Toki emanated nothing but power, with just the perfect degree of violence to keep Skwisgaar satiated yet unafraid of his capabilities. Knees that broke bone dug into the bed either side of his ribcage, and hands that directed the best beatings Toki ever doled out slithered back into his hair.

Precum mentally prepared Skwisgaar, but Toki yanked his head back. A smirk came from above, for the resultant popping sound. “Puts your head back down.”

Skwisgaar closed his eyes when the first spurt landed on his cheek. A line across his lips drew his tongue out on impulse. With a final sigh from the Norwegian, Skwisgaar tested a glance to see if he should expect anymore.

“There not's much better looking than you with a face full of cum,” Toki said. Swinging off, he leveraged his weight into a flat palm against Skwisgaar's still-concealed and aching core. “Clean youself up, _hore_.”

Just as Toki promised, the Swede's balls took the brunt of his unspent arousal. He wallowed in discomfort back in his own room for the evening, feeling empty thanks to the plug's removal, yet otherwise complacent. Seated on the edge of the bed with his guitar in his lap, pride expanded his chest over ignoring the concupiscence left to him. He didn't need his Master to monitor him continuously until his caging day, nor did Toki give anything beyond reminder when he left. Skwisgaar's obligation toward obedience kept him in check; what kind of slave compromised its place for something so paltry?

Before he could forget—not to mention as a distraction—Skwisgaar set his instrument aside and laid back with his phone. Since he had no idea how long they'd be out of contact with the rest of the world, he needed to bid his goodbyes where they were due. He kept in mind the time difference, to Sweden.

“Hallo, this ams Tyr.”

“Hej, ams Skwisgaar.”

“Thoughts that mights be you number, on my calls display,” the other man chuckled. True to his landline, the call slightly crackled. “How ams you doing?”

“Goods. I just thoughts I would call befores we heads down into de Dethsub.”

“Ams pretty exciting, ja? Ams you ready for it?”

Skwisgaar filled Tyr in on the preparations necessary to stimulate the prospective album (lightening the details of his previous bout in a submarine), then segued their conversation into the parts of his daily life suitable for sharing. Tyr in turn shared his; not much exciting happened, beyond a mildly disastrous roadtrip up to Umeå to celebrate his grandson's first birthday.

The winding down of their chat caused Skwisgaar mild disquiet. Besides his ex-stepfather, the idea of calling his mother too came up. Was he ready for that yet? She'd respected him enough to leave him alone, as promised, but did that really mean anything? What if she just forgot about him? “Tyr?”

“Ja.”

“I wants to ask you somet'ing, but I wills understand if you don'ts want to talk about it. Ams dat okay?”

“What ams it?”

“Ams about my moms.” Silence on the other end could go either way. “She showeds up here nots that long ago, I guess befores de last time we talks. She wanteds her and I to tries and get along, all dat craps. Has she evers gotten into contacks wit' you likes dat?”

“Hm. I woulds have to say ja. Not since we gots divorced, but we's had that kind of backs and forth since we were onlies kids.”

Tyr and Serveta were only a few years apart in age, so Skwisgaar easily assumed that hailing from the same small town meant they knew each other right from their youth. However, no one ever told Skwisgaar before how deep that ran. “Whats you mean?”

“Backs in school, I wanteds to date her. Asked your grandfather's permission and everythings. She. . .well, you know what she am like. She was interesteds in the idea, ja, but onlies until it meant she coulds only be with _me_. She moveds away to Stockholm fors a bit after we graduate, dids the whole pageant thing, and we trieds again when she comes back home. Sames deal, though. Then we dateds again in the mid-80's and brokes up because I didn'ts think she was beings faithful. Then we cames together again here recentlies and just whens I thought she mights be done that. . .ja. But we hasn'ts talked since, and I can'ts do it anymores with her. Is too stressfuls. Sometimes, evens though I know is not right, I blames her for the fact that I nevers got to have kids of my own. I spents all that time waiting for her, foolishlies holding onto the dream that we coulds have a family. I thoughts I could fix her by beings enough.

“I'm sorry, Skwisgaar. I shouldn'ts talk about your mother that way. As your son, you shouldn'ts hear things like that about her.”

“Is okay. Dat ams how I's always known her in my life. She wasn'ts much of a mom wit' me. All I really evers got to know about her was how she funskin as a woman. I don'ts feel much likes her son, so is weird to me when she comes around.” Skwisgaar glanced at the door when it opened, then smiled fleetingly at Toki. “I hates what she do to you, you know. It wasn'ts fair. We all hads a good t'ing going, but de black hole inside her what can nevers get enough ruin everyt'ing.”

“I still loves her, in a way. I ams a fool for puttings her on such a pedestal. She cans be a delightful womans, but sometime the bad things outweigh the goods, unfortunately. Evens though I am happy where I ams now, the family whats we had still gots a piece of me. Is why I likes it when you call, Skwisgaar. I stills consider you my son, evens if circumstance takes that away from us.”

“I miss dats a lot sometime. It. . .means a lot to hear.”

When Skwisgaar eventually ended the call, he laid with his phone facedown on his chest. Fingers running gently through his hair were the only things keeping him from curling up into a ball while his nervous system digested overpowering sadness.

“Who was thats?”

“Tyr, the man my moms married, before.”

“You never tolds me she got married.”

“He ams de one she say was my dads. Turned out he was onlies her husband—my stepsdad—but. . .” Skwisgaar shrugged. “I wish he _was_ my dads. He coulds be. I don'ts know for shore, since he nevers did de DNA test and he dateds my mom arounds de time she gots pregnant wit' me. Buts. . .I knows better than to dreams for somet'ing like dat.”

“Woulds you ever ask him to takes the test?”

“I don'ts think so. We talks anyway, evens though my mom fucks us up, and I. . .” What if they wound up not related, and that reinforced for Tyr the freedom to wash his hands of the Skwigelf name? Illogical as it was, considering Tyr as a person, Skwisgaar got let down far too frequently by the adults in his life not to subscribe to the belief.

Toki brought Skwisgaar's head into his lap. His brown strands nearly reached the Swede's nose; imagining the tickle, Skwisgaar scratched at it. “It takes more than bloods to be a dad, anyway. Looks at mine. I mights has come from him, but he didn'ts deserve me. To haves a son, you gots to act like a father. Is the conclusions I comes to abouts that whole thing.”

“Does you ever wish t'ing was differents?”

“I used to. Nots much of a point now. I forgaves him for whats he did. I used to hates the person he makes me to be, but is not so bads anymore. I's made peace with that, evens if it still make me mad sometimes when I think about it.”

“Whenevers I t'ink abouts it, I mights as well be twelve again. My moms brought a lot of mens home when I was youngers, but I cans appreskate now dat she nevers married none of thems. If she dids to me den what she dids wit' Tyr a couples year ago, it woulds has ruineds me completely.” A random tightness in Skwisgaar's throat came into existence as Baldur's goofy, wall-eyed face passed through his mind. Where did a pet fit into all this? Did his brain only attempt to summon anything that could possibly make him sad, so that this stress could force an exit?

Toki pressing a kiss to each his eyelids didn't help. “You aren'ts damaged goods, Skwis. I know how hards it is to sees that, after the world you grows up in skews how you looks at youself. You ands me—the whole band, actuallies—is here because we weres failed at some point. Your mom can'ts find happiness, and her pursuits for it takes yours in the process. She can'ts look past herself, and maybes that isn'ts really her fault but that don'ts mean you shoulds think less of yourself for it. You ares your own person now. You shouldn'ts let her have so much control over you.”

“Is just once in a whiles, when I gots to t'ink about it.” Skwisgaar turned his face into Toki's abdomen. “I don'ts want to be's her son no mores. I maybes don't have a choice dat she gaves birth to me, but I ams tired of slowly turnings into her.”

“One of the biggest reasons why I respects you so much is because you aren'ts, anymore.”

“I guess nots, huh?” Imposed chastity set Skwisgaar on the opposite end of the spectrum, in regards to his previous licentiousness. “I owes dat to you.”

“Gives yourself some credits too. I couldn'ts has done anything likes this on my own.”

Skwisgaar nuzzled his nose between Toki's abdominals. “ _Tack_ , anyway.” 


	15. Caged

Charles glanced at his watch out of habit as their limousine neared the outskirts of Mordland, where the Dethsub was moored. It's gigantic structure jutted into the sky, looming ever since they crossed the bay out of Mordhaus. A wide passage splitting the expansive crowd appeared where the vehicle came to a stop. “Just wait. Some klokateers are going to escort us.”

Armed guards with shoulders broader than Nathan's approached. Upon stepping out, Skwisgaar found a couple were even taller than _him_. Silent and imposing, they wouldn't stop a sniper's bullet, but psychologically they kept the fans from breaking free of their allotted areas.

“I likeds it better when we just wents down belows Mordhaus,” Skwisgaar told Toki as they pulled up the rear behind Nathan and Pickles. “Looks at all dese douchebags. I can smells de piss in dey pants alreadies.”

Toki laughed. They'd discussed last night how they should present themselves to the public, and after leaning toward maintaining their usual safe distance decided it would probably do more harm than good. They weren't a secret anymore, so what was the point? Not that they would skip down to the sub holding hands, or something equally absurd. Anyone watching them right now for answers would have to be satisfied by the small gap between their shoulders and whatever unguarded expressions might flit across their faces.

“Mights as well enjoys it. This is the last times you goings to hear people cheerings for you untils we get back.”

“ _Pff_ , I don'ts need dese peoples.” Skwisgaar lifted his chin. Not entirely true; he _did_ like a crowd in moderation. He wouldn't be in a world-class band, otherwise. However, none of their gawking could compare to pale blue eyes scrutinizing every minute dip or protrusion of his unclothed body. Why couldn't the limousine bring them closer to the gangplank? Even if Skwisgaar didn't latch onto Toki's arm as soon as they entered the sub, the freedom to do so would satisfy fingers in desperate need for some sort of preoccupation.

“Is everyone excited for this, or what?” Knubbler greeted them inside, arms going around Murderface and Pickles' shoulders. The green pupils in his mechanical eyes expanded to overtake entirely. “Everyone's got their ideas? Their lyrics? Their solos?”

So much changed in Skwisgaar's life since their last successful stint in the studio. He traced the previous months across his fretboard and formulated what, in his opinion, completely eclipsed all compositions to date. That demonstrated the base requirement for readiness to create something groundbreaking. Now all he needed to do was get the others to agree with him.

Since the Dethsub would take even longer than Silence 011010701 to reach Andromeda's Crevice, they had time to take it easy and adjust to the increasing oceanic pressure. However, before they even jerked away from the massive dock, the five of them converged in the studio with Knubbler.

“Okay, let's get it all out on the table. Nathan, where are your lyrics?”

For his age, not to mention his role as visionary for the biggest band in the world, Nathan never lost the air of a burly teenager drug up from the back of a classroom in order to make his presentation. He stood, cleared his throat, and retrieved a pile of crumpled paper from his back pocket. It wordlessly went around the rest of the band, who squinted to interpret his chicken scratch. Skwisgaar's smirk widened with each piece passed to him. The pen scratched through the pages where Nathan rewrote certain lines or drew arrows for new material to be injected. The band's frank discussions in the hot tub about their personal experiences in Silence 011010701 manifested here more succinctly than Skwisgaar could ever hope to communicate on his own.

“It's still kinda rough,” Nathan said. “Feel free to speak up, if you have any suggestions.”

Pickles took one sheet back from Murderface in order to discuss, giving Skwisgaar the opportunity to get Toki's attention with a tug on his tee shirt's sleeve. “Comes wit' me.”

Away from the others, Skwisgaar donned his Thunderhorse. He'd be lying to say no nerves existed about how he and Toki might get along during recording. Tension always found a place to budge in, and so much happened since the last album. Toki's relative disorientation left little fight for Skwisgaar then, so simply telling the Norwegian what to do manifested as such in the recording booth. How did they relate to one another now, as guitarists? Hope to recreate their ease of collaboration at the Seoul show prompted Skwisgaar to see the lead and rhythm parts from an entirely different perspective. He could play his section for Toki—did, then—but it wouldn't sound right on its own. It needed the substructure that only another guitar could provide.

“It amn'ts much yet,” Skwisgaar admitted upon sight of Toki's slightly furrowed brow. “Does dis, ja? I wants to try somet'ing.”

Taking advantage of Toki's auditory learning style, Skwisgaar launched into the rhythm parts he'd fashioned. The younger man watched to begin, left hand sliding in time, then licked his lips and sat straighter when Skwisgaar counted down the bars until he looped back to the beginning. As predicted, Toki roughly emulated the complicated string of notes and riffs to start. Some patience and encouragement went a long way, though; by the fifth time through, no distinction could be discerned in their playing.

“Keeps doing dat,” Skwisgaar instructed when they came to the end again. He himself switched back to the lead. Just as predicted, the two components came together as an entirely new beast. Its clinical nature displeased Skwisgaar, but he'd made it that way on purpose. If the last module of this experiment failed, he could fix that on his own. For now, he got the Norwegian's attention again. “Does what you feel. Alters it how you t'ink it should sound.”

“What?”

“Just tries it.”

“Ifs you say so. . .”

Deviation in Toki's fingers splashed some colour into the track. To contrast and offset, Skwisgaar pulled the other way. Melody held together the chasm widening between their individual styles. When they'd pushed it as far as they could, Skwisgaar grinned in triumph. Toki's head bobbed along and the others ceased their preoccupations to listen.

A click sounded after they came to a stop. Nathan brandished his recorder. “Just for future reference. You two are doing that again, when we get deep enough to start recording.”

“Yeeuh doods, how come ya haven' bin doin' thet all along?”

“Schelfisch. . .” Murderface shook his head in mock disappointment. “Holding usch back all thisch time.”

“We _haves_ been doing dis. Sorts of.” Skwisgaar strummed his instrument. “Just nots to dat degree.”

“Well, keep it up. That's the standard I expect from you two down here.”

As the depths grew darker out the window and a headache emerged, familiar despondency crept into Skwisgaar. Rather than asphyxiate, he relished in it. He couldn't even imagine how the riffs and melodies he'd concocted would pan out after similar adjustment. Deepened involvement with the Norwegian could only emerge as such in their music; never again would Toki's personality be emitted from their final product. Sure, maybe Skwisgaar possessed more technical skill and _could_ record both their parts, but he couldn't recreate on his own what he and Toki just did.

That left the band in a hopeful place as growling stomachs forced them to break. While picking at his turkey, Skwisgaar pored again over some of Nathan's contribution. Toki speaking his name in conversation with the bassist drew his gaze back up.

“. . .But schee, you get it!” Murderface turned his attention to the band at large. “Schee what happensch when you _encourage_ usch, instead of put usch down? You guysch put too much presschure on us! Isch it any wonder why we alwaysch buckle under it?”

“You never even give it half a shot,” Nathan said. “What's your point, anyway?”

“I wanna write a schong!”

“You're not capable of writing a Dethklok song. Just stick to bass.”

“Fuck you!” Murderface shot back. “You watch, I'm going to write a schong, and it'sch going to be on the fucking record! You'll like it _that_ mucsh!”

“We'll just do everything else while you work on that, then. As usual.”

“You'll schee, you asschole! You'll fucking love it!” Murderface stood, threw his bass against a wall, then stormed out.

“God, he can be such a child, sometimes.”

“Aw, why you gots to be so hards on him, Nathan?” Toki asked. “He only wants to helps. Why don'ts you lets him try?”

“I don't have to let him. He'll spring whatever he comes up with on us anyway.”

“Maybes he wouldn'ts mind a little help.” The Norwegian peered thoughtfully in the direction Murderface disappeared in.

“Just stick with us, okay Toki? It's up to us four to get actual shit done if he's gonna go pout-write.”

An uneraseable smile overcame the younger man for the rest of the meal, happiness resulting as feet tangled with Skwisgaar's under the table and admiring glances when they returned to their extemporization. Besides the odd rest for their fingers' or hydration's sake, the next solid end came with a yawn on Nathan's part. It spread through the room, stirring ignored fatigue in the drummer and guitarists.

The frontman called them in. “We'll get back at it later, after resting up?”

Clocks littered the sub, but no concept of day or night, today or tomorrow, existed at this depth. Skwisgaar stretched upward as he and Toki stepped out of the studio. “I guess I shoulds find a klokateer what knows de way to de livings quarters.”

“Nah. Come on.” Toki pulled him along by his wrist down the corridor, prompting Skwisgaar to pick up his pace. “You goings to stays with me, just so's you know.”

“Ja, _Mästare_.” Already, that became an automatic, natural response for the Swede. He'd have to be careful, not to accidentally speak it in front of the other guys. Their relationship became less intense outside private accommodations, or at least manifested in a different manner. Skwisgaar couldn't be more pleased with their recording process so far. From the very first time they met, Toki boasted a special gift of making the Swede better at his craft.

Relenting in his pride paid off in more ways than one; immediately after the brunet shut the door of his personal suite, Skwisgaar found his back pressed up against it. Eager hands rode up his shirt, a thigh pressed between his legs, and teeth on his neck pulled an involuntary moan. All the as-of-yet unspent lust flooded right back into his system, as if it never fell to the wayside. Toki changed his mind the night before about letting him cum, but maybe good behaviour today righted that?

“You knows what I likes about these beds on here?” Toki murmured in his ear. “They gots proper posts I can use to ties you up.”

Leaving Skwisgaar to undress, the Norwegian tapped into their luggage. Krill and other planktonic organisms drifted by the massive window, pausing the Swede for only a second as he considered drawing the blinds. No use, all the way down here. Any notion of privacy zipped away as Toki stood up straight with the neatly coiled ropes. A twitch of his cock as eyes skimmed over his body made Skwisgaar realize that that alone anymore provoked reaction.

“Comes here.” Rather than his wrist, Toki led him by the throbbing, desperate organ. Relenting grasp as they reached the bedside dropped Skwisgaar to his knees. Something snapped inside him and, in a moment of weakness, he couldn't handle it anymore. He tugged on the hem of Toki's shirt, ceasing him in rearranging pillows and blankets.

“What?” His gaze dropped to where the Swede kneeled, posture as unmelting as his tone. “Whats you want?”

“ _Snälla, Mästare._ ” Trembling chin influenced Skwisgaar wavering voice. “I needs to—”

A slap hard enough to offset his balance silenced him. Completely unsympathetic, Toki drug him toward the bed by his hair. “You calls that begging? I finds it insulting that you think something so pathetics would lets you get your way. Shuts the fuck up, slut, and gets on your back.”

“ _Förlåt mig_ ,” Skwisgaar beseeched. The pounding in his head summoned prickles in his eyes. Embarrassed at the automatic response, he wiped them away.

All he got from Toki was a scoff. “You not sorries yet, but you wills be.”

A length of rope was wrapped around each of Skwisgaar's knees, of which he was instructed to hold onto. Toki preoccupied himself with the Swede's ankles, securing them to the tops of his thighs. Once Skwisgaar confirmed he couldn't move, Toki took the other ropes from him and lifted the blond's hips off the mattress by tying them to opposing ends of the headboard. Any attempt to close his legs ended with straining muscles.

“Hands up.” Toki bound his wrists next. While fastening them at the mid-point between the others, the side of Skwisgaar's head depressed into the mattress under Toki's seat. The Norwegian admired his handiwork when he removed himself from the bed. “Cans you move at all?”

“Noes.”

“Good.” The last thing Skwisgaar saw was the blindfold coming down over his eyes. Not that he dared ask anyway, but any ability to do so fled away when Toki yanked his jaw open and stuck a gag in behind his teeth. Next, pillows were piled up beneath him in order to lessen his bottom half's leverage against the restraints.

“You wants to beg?” Coldness contrasted completely with Toki's fleeting, kind act. “Then beg, slut.”

Skwisgaar's spine straightened by its own accord when the thin bite of a cane erupted across his ass. Though it made no difference, he clenched his eyes shut. The wash of endorphins flooding his body to fend off the assault was the closest thing to an orgasm he'd experienced in nearly a _week_. He groaned around his gag, torso undulating in attempt to earn more. His restraints protested when one tip of the cane traced the underside of his erection, and toes cracked nearly simultaneously with a thwack against his balls.

The cane clattering against the floor disappointed Skwisgaar, but Toki wasn't done yet. While he'd decided months ago that his preference lay in sting over impact, the Swede reassessed that as the vast network of contusions erupted simultaneously with a thud loud enough to echo off the walls. Each strike sent Skwisgaar further into delirium. If Toki would just _touch_ him—although he could probably cum this way, with the level of intoxication his brain experienced. Maybe he already had, or was permanently fixed in the high point of orgasm. His entirety shuddered to reflect that, blood rising to the surface of his skin and increasing the temperature of the room.

Best he could, Skwisgaar pressed back into Toki's hands as they sprawled over each of his cheeks. He could feel how uneven his skin became, raised, swollen, more than likely discoloured. Did he do good? Did he please his Master? Did he earn a reward?

A high-pitched, single noted groan tapered off in Skwisgaar's throat as turgid flesh pushed inside him. Disallowed mental preparation or adjustment, absolutely _everything_ hurt. The force behind each of Toki's thrusts sent a shockwave through him. The man's hips colliding with his backside enhanced the work done. Unable to handle the battle between that and euphoria cascading downward, Skwisgaar went limp. Not only might he lose consciousness, but such an assault on his senses may very well project his very _soul_ outward. That simultaneously terrified and exhilarated him. As a submissive, he would've either called red or dropped his bell by now. With neither at his disposal, all he could do was retreat inward and wait it out. It should please him enough that the hole between his legs elicited such gutteral vocalizations from his owner. Overwhelmed, Skwisgaar concentrated on that.

Waning pleasure reinforced objectification. Skwisgaar went soft at some point, dropping all the blood into a more-than-familiar ache as Toki's short nails dug into his thighs once last time. Soft hair grazing the Swede's middle dropped him further into his mind, down a level below anything he'd ever experienced in relinquishing control. As the rubble settled, Skwisgaar saw with complete clarity his worth, his place, his. . .purpose. He didn't deserve any of the luxuries usually allotted to him when this man took care of him afterward, not unless Toki said so. If the Norwegian wanted to leave him like this—on display, uncomfortable, and chilled—then that was his prerogative and Skwisgaar would respect it. He didn't register his wrists coming loose, nor his legs. Even the chafe of soft blankets and lack of elevation under his hips barely traversed his senses. Light filtered through his eyelids and he could move his jaw again. The words directed at him manifested as the narrative of consciousness that normally formulated his thoughts, but he struggled to summon the energy necessary to speak, as it commanded.

Only when an ear lowered to his mouth did dry lips form all he could possibly say. “ _Tack, Mästare_.”

Disconnected completely from his own volition, Skwisgaar had no idea how long passed when his bearings began to return. He'd moved again, this time to his side, and he shivered from all the ice packs pressed against him. “Toki?”

The scratch of stubble preceded a kiss to Skwisgaar's forehead. “Welcomes back.”

“What happened?”

Toki let out a slow exhale. “Thoughts I maybe went waaaay too far there, for a few minutes.”

“How longs ago was that?”

“Abouts a half hour. I just abouts called a doctor. Thoughts you stopped breathing. Your heart rates was so low, too. I shoulds ask _you_ what happened.”

In a nutshell, Skwisgaar got exactly what he wanted. Between then and now, he might as well have not existed. For being chased so successfully from his carnal entity, a string of small kisses along Toki's jaw formed his answer. “I meants it: _tack_.”

“Tells me what I did to you,” Toki requested. Still with one foot in a reactionary mindset, the Swede's mouth opened without his own prompting.

“Just slavespace, I t'ink.”

“ _Just_ slavespace?”

“I didn'ts t'ink it would be's dat strong. I know you t'inks you push me too far, but is somet'ing to gets used to. I was still here. . .onlies I wasn't. All my thoughts was gone.”

“I's never seens you like that.” Spreading awareness of his person informed Skwisgaar that Toki's arms encircled him in a cautious embrace. “How's you feel now? Does you hurt at all?”

“I don'ts even care if I do. I'ves never felt so fuckings good in my wholes entire life.”

The Norwegian chuckled. “Ja. . .thoughts I mights has stayed cross-eyed after I cames.”

“You didn'ts,” Skwisgaar told him after checking.

“You shoulds check out your ass, whenevers you get up next.” Toki kissed his nose, then brow. “Wouldn'ts even recognize it. You did _so_ goods, though. Holy shit, Skwis.”

“ _Tack_.” Chest swelling with pride, another wave of delight coursed through the Swede. How much could someone take, in one night? It pushed his exhaustion to weigh his eyelids.

“Befores you go to sleeps,” Toki's lips grazed each his cheekbones. “You know whats is time for.”

Obediently, Skwisgaar rolled onto his back and opened his legs for the younger man again. He propped himself up on his elbows to watch, answering in the positive or negative about which adjustment comfortably situated between his balls and body. His cock disappeared inside the polycarbonate portion, more customization was done to accomodate his size, then a small padlock clicking into place cinched it.

Despite not knowing when he could expect to be let back out, Skwisgaar smiled as Toki secured a chain with the key around his own neck. “ _Tack, Mästare_.” 


	16. Back to Basics

Skwisgaar woke up to a pinch between his legs. Exhausted, reaching down to adjust confused him. Right. He tried rolling onto his back, but started as pain flushed through his ass. Laying on his stomach, he found a happy medium by pushing his hips up into the air. Although nothing pinched or chafed anymore, his cage weighed in a distracting manner. Somehow, he still managed to drift off.

Not for long. Feeling as if he hadn't caught a single wink, Skwisgaar carefully tossed and turned again. His ass hurt too much.

“What's you doing?” Toki mumbled sleepily, lifting his head.

“I can't sleeps.”

“What's wrong?”

A new ice pack situated under Skwisgaar's backside. He cringed when instructed to sit up and swallow a couple painkillers. “ _Tack_.”

“Just takes it easy.” Toki pulled a pillow over his lap so that the Swede could set his head there. “Let's me know when you feels okay to sleeps.”

“I almost coulds. I'm so fuckings tired.” A scalp massage eased him in that direction. “But I don'ts regret anyt'ing, just so's you know.”

“Me neithers,” Toki replied. “I'll make sures you get enough rest befores we gots to be back in the studio. You learneds you lesson last night, ja?”

Skwisgaar nodded. “Be's happy wit' what you decides for me.”

He earned a kiss to the forehead. “Exactlies. So whats are you goings to do from now on?”

“Nots beg, unless you wants me to.”

“I wants to make this clear to you again: _I_ decide when or ifs you gets off. I owns you.” Toki ran his fingers over the device. “Especiallies now. You askeds for this. I shouldn'ts have to explain.”

“Is hard nots to t'ink wit' your dick when you beens horny all week. I can'ts excuse myself, but I nots always strong abouts it.” At least before, when he could ask Toki for permission to jack off, Skwisgaar found some edge of relief. Contrition averted his gaze.

Rather than chide the Swede, Toki smoothed his thumbs over the man's brow. “You can'ts help but be human. Is good thats you recognize what parts of you needs more discipline. I's known since we first mets that so much of you world revolve arounds your dick. Is ones of the biggest reason why I locks you up. I wants you to becomes more than that, as a person. You's reigned it in a lot since we starts doing this, but I can sees how far you capables of going. Since you mine's now, I's going to helps you gets there.”

“I wants you to.”

“One things I's learned about you since we starts doing this, is thats you hasn'ts really ever beens a happy person. I's always wanted to _makes_ you happy, but I nevers knew how. I loves that you puts your guard down and lets me learns enough to makes that happen.”

So where would that take Skwisgaar, then? What did Toki see, that he couldn't? Would that remain a secret, revealed only when the younger man felt right? Like the night before. . .Toki _had_ to realize he'd overstepped once-established limits. Skwisgaar called red consistently as a sub if they neared that boundary, and the Norwegian learned when he needed to stop. Where Skwisgaar would've halted it, Toki pushed him. Not only did the blond already miss the cocktail of rapture that resulted, but his confidence in the Norwegian's ability to make such a decision increased. This was what he wanted; however submissive he might be, he was aware that some of his limits emerged from hang-ups. If he wanted to reach his full potential, someone else needed to call the shots.

“Does it scares you at all?” Toki asked. “This woulds has been unacceptables last night, if you still a sub. Does you trust me?”

“Is disconcerting that you knows t'ing abouts me dat I don'ts know. I amn't shore what dat am goings to mean. Is just uncertainty. But I trust dat you wills only do what am good, dat you won'ts really hurt me. Likes last night. It wasn'ts really mores dan I used to, pain-wise, and where I wents after we passed my old limit am exacklies what I hads in mind when I first say I wants you to own me.”

“Does it makes you nervous when you looks back on it, how vulnerables you were?”

“A littles, ja,” Skwisgaar admitted. “Was new, evens if I wanteds it. Was new for _us_. But I feels dat you handleds it well. You tooks care of me. Am _stills_ taking care of me.”

“I needs to be clear that I wouldn'ts push you to does anything that would actuallies hurt you. I don'ts want to breaks you completely on you way to beings a slave. This is somethings we goings to do together. Whats I learn last night is what you gots in you.” Toki brushed some hair off Skwisgaar's collar bone. “So now we goings to ease back towards that. My goal is that slavespace becomes what you always are with me, withouts needing to be beatens or fucked into it. I wants you to be mores aware of yourself than you was after something so overstimulatings.”

While Skwisgaar's ass still throbbed, the painkillers cut the sensation off from his brain. He and Toki situated side by side again in darkness, lulled by the sound of water running alongside the Dethsub. Skwisgaar couldn't get close enough to the other man, however their skin pressed. “I'm still somewhere between beings a sub and slave. You ams right about dat. After gettings comfortable wit' de way we used to be, it isn'ts easy as dat to change it.”

“If you feels unsure, you needs to tell me. It won'ts mean that we stop, is just parts of the process. Your trainings won't always be as intense as last night. I don'ts want to push you away, makes you think you nots cut out to be a slave after all, or thats I's a bad Master. I cares about you a lot, Skwis. I wants to support you in this, not just takes advantage of you givings yourself to gets what I want. I woulds onlies do that within us context, for _your_ sakes as much as mine.”

“A lots of good comes from what you dids. I learns my lesson, gots a taste of slavespace, and now I knows that no matter what, you goings to take cares of me.”

Toki's nose nuzzled against Skwisgaar's cheek. “I don'ts want you to think I don'ts have controls over myself. That wasn'ts my intention at all. I was a little scareds when it end and you were so lost. Slavespace is new to me, too. I knew what it was and to expecks it, but is different when is rights in front of you and coulds be mistaken for something else. I thoughts I maybes hurt you.”

“I _wants_ to be hurt dat way. I _wants_ to be objectified. Don'ts forget dat, ja?”

“I won'ts. I meants that I maybes hurt you in the wrong way.”

Skwisgaar shook his head. “Ams like I said. I nevers felt so alives, ever.”

“Haves I told you lately how amazings you are?”

A pair of chuckles ended the conversation in lieu of sleep. When Skwisgaar decided to get up, he successfully slipped off the mattress—moving gingerly as he needed to—and crept into the adjourning bathroom for a shower. A glimpse of black, blue, and deep red halted him before a full-length mirror; his stomach dropped in initial reaction, but gradually his shock transformed to admiration. Sitting would be a bitch today, for both this and the chastity device weighing him in the front. Completely expected, the reminder of all Toki did caused the device to pinch in the same way that woke him up throughout the night. Skwisgaar's affinity toward such discomfort—although this merely teased—only made it worse. He turned the shower to cold, unable to fix this any other way.

He sat up on the counter naked with a box of Q-tips open beside him when Toki strolled in. “ _Morgen_. Or whatever time it ams.”

“Is mornings to me.” Toki kissed his cheek in passing for the toilet. “I thoughts you was alreadies gone. I wouldn'ts has jacked off.”

“I was tryings to be quiet.” Skwisgaar maneuvered the Q-tip best he could through the device's tip and ventilation strips, in order to remove any moisture that remained from his shower.

“How's you ass feel?”

“Wouldn'ts mind a couple more painkiller, just fors de day ahead. Feels okay rights now, though.”

“Good.” Toki put the toiletseat cover down when he finished and left the bathroom long enough to fetch some clothes for the blond. He studied Skwisgaar with a hand on his chin. “Ja, I can'ts tell you gots anything on your cock. Some of you pants might be's a bit iffy, likes those grey jeans. You mights has to get them resized ats the crotch. And don'ts even _tries_ that joke, it's _so_ old,” Toki added when Skwisgaar adapted an amused grin.

“I won'ts, den.” To finish getting ready for the day, the blond turned toward the mirror. “You havings a shower?”

“Ja.” Toki skipped out of his boxers. “I meets you for breakfast, if you wanteds to get going.”

On his way out the door after tying his hair back, shaving, and putting on deodorant, Skwisgaar grabbed a sweater. In the interval between descents, their mechanical team finally managed to fix the Dethsub with a strong enough air conditioning system for the environment they settled in. Had they reached the Crevice yet? It didn't get much darker than the light-starved water outside the gargantuan window stretching alongside the corridor. That meant nothing at this depth, though.

“Heeey, dood,” Pickles greeted him when he came in the dining room. “Yer the second one up, far as I kin tell.”

“Toki ams up.” Skwisgaar sat opposite and helped himself to the spread. “Does you know where we ams?”

“Yeeuh, tahlked to Charlie a bit ago. We're gonna be in the Crevice in. . .naht too long, now. Prahbly within the hour.”

“I was hopings we would be ables to get rights to it. Has beens a while since I was exciteds to be in de studio.”

“Same. If Nate ain't up by the time we get there, I kin engineer you 'n' Toki. It'll be a good way to kick things off.”

Toki found them not long before the lead guitarist and drummer considered moving along on their own. Even after waiting for the Norwegian to put something into his stomach, the three of them headed alone into the heart of the Dethsub. As Skwisgaar checked the tuning on his guitar beside Toki in the recording booth, Pickles sat alone behind the panel. His voice came in over the talkback mic. “Do whet you guys did yesterday, okee?”

“Mights be hard. We was onlies improvisings.”

“Give it a shot. Whetever you guys're doin' werks, so even if it ain't exact I'm sure we kin werk widdit.”

“You remembers what we start wit'?” Skwisgaar asked Toki.

“Ja, I think so. Runs through it with me once, and I'll gets it.”

“Okee doods, I'm countin' you in. Three, two. . .”

Normally, until whatever song preoccupied Skwisgaar landed in digital format, he could hear it perfectly inside his own head. Not so, now; the guitar tracks weren't his own work anymore. It required collective effort before they turned into something familiar. When they got the original bars down pat, Skwisgaar moved them beyond. Without any structure to go on, they should've fallen out of rhythm. However, no matter what the Swede did, however drastic a deviation, Toki caught him immediately. The give and take of their instruments removed Skwisgaar from the usual pressures of the recording booth, and he couldn't help but sink in nostalgia. Last he and Toki played together this well and for so long in the same space, he hadn't even learned where in Norway the younger man hailed from. Could he smell a stinky sixteen year old again, by any chance? The notion made him laugh.

Nathan sat beside Pickles when Skwisgaar looked up. This particular frown, while not very different in the minute details, denoted satisfaction. After the Scandinavians exploited their impromptu music to his contentment, they were waved back inside.

“Sounds good.” He nodded at each of them. “Not quite album material, but you're gonna fix that. I think this might fit with the atmosphere I wanted for Nihilist.”

Nathan pointed at different sections of their session's digital representation. “Make this the intro, this here the verse. . .”

Writing with four people as opposed to their usual three made it necessary to reassess the entire process. Skwisgaar couldn't just lay down the lead, rhythm, and bass, leaving Pickles and Nathan to their respective contributions. Instead, he and Toki tested the frontman's suggestion. “Maybes ease up like dis, for de intro.”

A cryptic little smile came over the Norwegian as they rearranged the track. Back in the recording booth, it nearly distracted Skwisgaar. Switching out with Pickles though seated behind Nathan as the man's concentration lay solely in how Pickles' track weaved through the Scandinavians', Toki leaned over. “The guitars sound to me likes we's fucking.”

“ _Pff_.” Skwisgaar smirked. “What's you mean?”

“Insteads of you jacking off all over the place.”

With Nathan and Pickles preoccupied, Skwisgaar squeezed the other man's forearm. “I guess we can'ts help it, if we changes de way we plays toget'er.”

Murderface sulked in later to see what happened in his absence and, by their dispersion, they had a song demoed as well as a goal for tomorrow. Settling into routine, extensive and intense studio sessions resulted in a rough skeleton of half the intended tracks by the end of the first week. Even then, not yet willing to rest after playing back their sixth demo, Skwisgaar took his guitar along to the botanical gardens.

A fifteen-storey ceiling, even if dark metal instead of sky topped it, helped eliminate the confined feeling of situating fifteen kilometres under the ocean surface. Perhaps a concentration of oxygen, colourful floral display, and koi pond had something to do with that too. Toki assumed regular position on his stomach beside the latter. “Is kinda funny, to be's a fish in a pond in a sub in the ocean.”

“Dey don'ts know de difference.”

“Ifs they did, they woulds be dead.” Toki rolled onto his back and folded his fingers behind his head. “I wonders if it nice, back home. Woulds has been cool to do something withs you this summer.”

“Likes what?”

“I don'ts know. Go somewhere, I guess.”

“Where woulds you want to go?”

“Somewheres hot, where I coulds grope you on a beach. Or somewheres cold, where we cans wrap up together. I nots all that picky. Woulds has been fun for your birthday. Maybes next July. I can'ts believe you goings to be _thirty_.”

“Ugh, don'ts remind me. Twenty-nine ams going to be bads enough.”

Toki grinned. “Comes here.”

Guitar abandoned on the bench, Skwisgaar lowered himself to the ground. Toki pulled him to straddle his hips before he could settle. “Whats if someone come, ah?”

“Is their problem, isn't it?” Toki carefully squeezed his ass. The massive bruise yellowed at the edges, but Skwisgaar still took painkillers and moved cautiously when seated. “I nots gonna fuck you here anyway, sheesh. I just wants you close.”

A surreptitious glance around came up with nobody, so Skwisgaar leaned down over the other man. Long days in the studio made moments like this all the more precious; returning to their room more often than not resulted in immediate sleep. Giving a blow job in the mornings simply didn't cut it.

“You're so bads,” Toki murmured into his lips when fingers traced the indentations between his abdominal muscles.

“Maybes I just wants you close.”

“Psh.” Toki nudged him. “Come on, let's go.”

Constant sexual arousal, after a fortnight of it, became normal to Skwisgaar. Focus shifting away from the centre of his body deepened selflessness in the bedroom. No ulterior motive distracted him as Toki carefully maneuvered his pants down over his cage. Skwisgaar kneaded the blanket between his fingers, quickening as each of his balls fell prey to a warm caress from the Norwegian's tongue.

“I wants to do something for you,” Toki said. “Gets onto all fours.”

Lessened attention to this part of Skwisgaar's body, even for Toki's use, slackened his face as the nerve endings fell prey to similar treatment. His cock's limitation made itself known; frustration only heated the Swede further. Maybe he couldn't indulge in essential release, maybe someone else's cum had landed on his every possible surface, but this form of denial turned him sacrosanct. He'd never felt so pure. This must be why religious people didn't sleep around, and why they submitted to a higher power. When did God ever eat _their_ asses out, though?

“What's so funny?” Toki kissed up to the tail of his spine.

“Not'ing. Just. . .you fu manchu tickles a bit.”

“Oh.” The Norwegian's digits skimmed over Skwisgaar's thighs. “So you beens real good this week.”

“ _Tack_.”

“I appreciates it, and you's earned something for that. Just hangs tight, okay?”

Actually surprising himself, Skwisgaar didn't want to be unlocked if that should be on Toki's agenda. An orgasm would be awesome, but the long-term reward became just as addictive. The extra weight between his legs reminded him with every shift through the day whose neck the key dangled from. It kept the Swede at bay from rubbing against Toki's abdomen, should the Norwegian revisit the most private place of his property. Frustration getting away from Skwisgaar and manifesting as hips bucking without restraint earned deeply satisfying teasing. Every ounce of control slipped through the Swede's fingers; instead, he concentrated on experiencing orgasm vicariously. Along with roughened breathing and—if Skwisgaar was really lucky—his name, gratification blossomed in the pit of his brain. As Toki's limbs flopped and his speech leveled out, the blond reveled in similar aftermath. Unlike the doziness that accompanied his own end, though, clarify zeroed him in on anything else the younger man may want. He displayed for Toki how the cum escaped him and dribbled down his thighs. With lips pressed against the Norwegian's ear, he'd whisper about the desperation locked in polycarbonate and how nothing mattered more than to simply let it go. So long as Toki got what he needed. So long as he got what he wanted.

Rubber snapping against skin lifted Skwisgaar's head off the bed. However, Toki already settled behind him again before he could see anything. “Whats you doings?”

“You'll finds out pretty quick. Watch thats you don't upset this dish unders you.”

Presence of lube told Skwisgaar enough, although the sensation definitely differed. “Ams dat a condom?”

“Glove.”

“Why?”

“Aren'ts you nosy?” Toki commented with a kiss to the Swede's left cheek. “You'll feels better after.”

“Why won'ts you tell me what you doing?”

“What, you in alls you infinite wisdom hasn'ts figured it out yet?”

Directed pressure against Skwisgaar's prostate confirmed his suspicion. Only once had he ever cum solely from something in his ass, so hope for an orgasm wasn't too high. His body didn't listen, though; the Norwegian pulled out, thwarting the attempt. “Nothing's changed yet. You aren'ts allowed.”

“I knows dat in my head.” Nearing the precipice made Skwisgaar's heart pound against his ribcage. Just a few seconds longer, and he could've let go.

Toki chuckled. “Sucks, doesn't it?”

“I cans handle it.”

“You know what I loves about you body?” Toki's ungloved fingers skimmed over Skwisgaar's thigh. “Whenever you gets close, everything latches onto me. You ass tighten up, and if we's in a position where you arms and legs can wraps around me, they wills. I don'ts even care if you snags my scars. Is a rush on its own when you rakes your nails down my back.”

“I don'ts t'ink it am _dat_ special, ja? Is what peoples do, when dey fuck.”

“But how manys people have you dones that to?”

“Just you.”

“How many peoples you let fuck you in the first place?”

“You.”

“So is special for me. There so many different levels it touch. I nevers did anal before I fucks you, you's my slave, you's my best friend, and is so refreshings to see that old aloof asshole finally lets loose a bit.”

Skwisgaar laughed, although it stilted with his ass' permeation again. “Is a process.”

“Has beens, ja. I thoughts you were the coolest guy ever, whens we first met. If you stayeds nice after we gots to know each others a bit more, I woulds has been chasing your ass _everywhere_.”

“Whats if I didn'ts like dick?”

“You does.”

“But whats if I didn't?”

“I woulds has learned pretty fast, huh?” Toki paused. “Hey, Skwis.”

“Ja.” The Swede's eyelids fluttered shut. It didn't take long for waned pleasure to regain traction.

“I thinks it great that you identifies as pansexual. I don'ts know if anyone ever tells you that before—or if you evens tell anyone your sexuality. You can see's what am attractive in everyone, and I thinks that beautiful.”

“ _Tack_. I stills t'ink about what you say when. . .you knows. Abouts how you wouldn'ts care if I was a dudes or a lady. No one ever saids anything that nice to me's, before.”

“Is true. I just likes _you_. Besides, I bets you woulds has made a hot lady.”

“ _Pff_.”

“Don't scoffs at it! Just imagines that. We coulds has even had kids, if we wanted.”

Skwisgaar's stomach twisted oddly. For all the children he brought into the world, there'd be something _extremely_ different about he and Toki's offspring. What a strange notion. “It would stills be more a questions of should, not could.”

“You don'ts think we could takes care of one?”

“Remembers Fatty Ding Dongs?”

“That was differents. We's older now. More matures. And its would be _ours_.”

Lips falling apart, something gave way in Skwisgaar. It wasn't by any means an orgasm, but some of the tension constantly poking him the last couple weeks quite literally drained.

“There.” Toki's fingers vacated him. “Alls done. You cans lay down.”

Still attempting not to upset the dish, Skwisgaar discovered Toki took it with him to the bathroom. The Norwegian jumped onto the bed beside him, propping up on his elbow. “Feels better?”

“It help, ja.” Upon inspection, it was a mostly clean ejaculation; Skwisgaar wiped a small amount of cum from the tip of his foreskin, but he didn't need to attend to any extensive clean-up.

“I was goings to make you eat it, but I woulds rather talks to you right now.”

“I's. . .not really sure what to say. Is awkward to talks about kid, because it amn't somet'ing I can evers naturally offer you. Ams dey somet'ing you wants?”

“Ja, but I realize it probably nots ever going to happens for old Toki. Was the onlies reason I evers go to that Ladymates thing. Well, woulds has been nice to be's with someone, but I gots that with you.” The Norwegian kissed Skwisgaar's shoulder. “Whats about you? Dids you ever think abouts having them?”

“I gots kids.”

“Yous and I boths know that blood and DNA means nothing. I means having a kid what you takes care of and raise.”

“I. . .nots really.” Skwisgaar admitted. “I's too much like my mom. Too selfish, for somet'ing like dat.”

“You aren'ts that selfish, no more.”

“I don'ts know. I t'inks about my mom and how shitties it was growings up like dat, but den I remembers what Tyr saids when I last talks to him. He regrets now, nots having dem.” The blond folded his fingers behind his head with a sigh. “Everyone has de biological urge for it, ja, but I t'ink dere am mores to it dan dat for being _serious_ about wantings dem. I don'ts know how to takes care of a kid. I has no ideas how to raise one because no ones ever raised _me_.”

“No ones raised me either. The way I sees it, I knows what _nots_ to do. I wouldn'ts ever hit my kids. I couldn'ts bring myself to does it. Woulds you ever leave yours alone for longs times?”

“Noes.” Why did they even discuss this? It wasn't anything they could ever have. Skwisgaar's mood slipped at the prospect of something he had no means to give. Their biology didn't complement in the necessary fashion.

Seeming to sense that futility through the Swede's silence, Toki slipped off the bed again in order to undress and get ready for sleep. Certain Skwisgaar had both offended and disappointed, he curled up against the Norwegian's back as the tense man returned after flicking off the lights. What could he even say, though? They should've never brought this up. Toki would probably make a great dad, attentive and affectionate as he was, and that only made Skwisgaar feel worse that he held fruition of that at bay just by being born with the wrong parts. If Toki could've gotten that elsewhere, he probably would have, by now.

He pressed his lips into the crook of Toki's neck. “Dis make me miss Baldur, though.”

“Ja.”

“I'm sorries. I don'ts mean to be a downers about de whole t'ing. I nevers expected it to be somet'ing we talks about.”

“Nots like it gonna happen anyway, right? I alreadies accept it once. Shoulds just does it again.”

Skwisgaar sighed. “I wish it didn'ts have to be's dat way for you.”

“What does you do? We's Dethklok. There are things we just don'ts get, out of life.”

“Guess nots, huh?”

Toki didn't reply for a little while, then cut the conversation with a terse goodnight. Skwisgaar laid with his arm over the Norwegian's middle for a short while longer, then migrated to his own side of the bed. Weirdness churned about in his stomach, mingled with a sense of failure. Nothing could fix such a basic need. Skwisgaar could offer Toki an outlet to yearning for hierarchy, but even a slave couldn't take the place of progeny. 


	17. Definition

As usually the first one up in the morning, it struck Skwisgaar as odd to find the bed empty. Revisiting how they fell asleep pushed an exhale through his nose. Did it really upset Toki that much? While the Swede still felt bad for shutting the man's enthusiasm down, what good came of them getting excited for something they'd never naturally experience? In fact, it made Skwisgaar mad. He couldn't help being born a man, and he really didn't appreciate being made to feel like less for that.

He skipped breakfast and headed straight for the studio. Nathan and Knubbler listened back over Plasma Burn, the latest completed track. “These demos are excellent, Babe. Charles sent some klokateers out to explore for places where the others will be isolated, when you record the actual album. The Devil's Cave collapsed recently, so. . .”

“Oh hey, Skwisgaar.” Nathan glanced over when he dropped onto the couch. “Where's Toki?”

“Don'ts know. Whats we working on?”

“Uhh. . .” The Swede's shortness stalled the frontman. “We'll get going on Schizophrenia whenever the other guys get here, I guess.”

Toki's greeting when he found them was a grumble, rather than his usual chipper demeanour. He sat with his arms crossed at the other end of the couch. Stomach curdling, Skwisgaar's fingers sped up on the fretboard. Could they even work together, like this? Maybe the Swede should've found him before coming here. Whatever disagreement or animosity existed between them, it couldn't hold the band back. But were they even  _having_  a fight?

Inside the recording booth, Skwisgaar pulled his headphones to the side when Toki leaned over to say something. “We'll talks later. I don'ts want this to be's awkward.”

All the Swede could do was nod. With Nathan and Knubbler's attention, nothing could be settled yet. Annoyance deepened and subsequently manifested in the music. While he and Toki maintained their calibre—judging by Nathan not deleting or demanding them to rerecord—Skwisgaar could hear it upon playback. Pickles' turn in the booth preoccupied the frontman and producer further; the Swede slouched on the couch and lifted his chin minutely when Toki plopped down beside. “Dids you eat yet?”

“Noes.”

“C'mon.” Toki tapped Skwisgaar's leg with the back of his hand. “They won'ts need us again for a bit.”

An abundance of staff in the kitchen created an environment unfavourable for an argument, should it occur. As Toki led him in direction of the gardens after collecting a light lunch, the rehearsals in Skwisgaar's head wafted away in place of anxiety. He didn't want to fight. He didn't want to explain why the things Toki said were unacceptable. He didn't want a fundamental difference in their needs to undermine the type of relationship they only  _just_  established. Kids, whether biological or adopted, weren't something Toki could spring on Skwisgaar. They should've talked about this,  _would've_  talked about this, if it were anywhere on the Swede's radar. Toki found Fatty Ding Dongs a burden too, and he'd never mentioned any sort of yearning for offspring since. What if Toki tried to use his position of power to decide something so critical for Skwisgaar? That would  _definitely_  compromise their dynamic.

While Skwisgaar sat cross-legged beside the koi pond with his lunch in his lap, Toki removed his boots and socks. His legs interrupted the tiny ripples created from the fountain. The longer he went without speaking, the more concerned the blond grew. His sandwich, objectively delicious, only felt like cardboard in his mouth.

“I don'ts really know how to start this,” the Norwegian finally admitted. “I kinds of let this go a weirds way, didn't I?”

“You shouldn'ts has talks about de whats if, if I's was a woman,” Skwisgaar replied. “It don'ts matter, because it can'ts ever happen like dat. I amn'ts a woman, I don'ts want to  _be's_  a woman, and evens if I did, I still wouldn'ts be able to do anyt'ing else beyonds look like I have de right parts.”

“All I meants with that was to emphasize I don'ts care what kinds of casing you comes in, I would wants you anyway. Does  _that_  bothers you too?”

Skwisgaar shook his head when Toki looked over. “Is like I said: dat was a nice t'ing to say, and I gets it completely. Ams more about type dan physical t'ing.”

“So is the things with the kid.”

“Is obvious dat if I's was a woman, we woulds have dat option, so dat don'ts bot'er me too much. But we am so deeps in everyt'ing else we do and dis am de forst time kids have come up into de convorsation. Dey ams a bigs deal.”

“We haven'ts really found a place to talks about them, though. We don'ts even really talk about us beings together, except for  _hows_  we together. Ares we in a relatesingip? Has it gottens to that point yet?” Toki posed as an example. “We nevers meant to talks about the future, and that don'ts only mean kids. I thinks yesterday when I talks about taking you somewhere was actuallies the first time eithers of us bring ups the idea that, next winters or whatever, we might stills be doing anything at all. We was goings to do this as longs as we felts we needed to, unless ones of us got sick of the other first. I didn'ts expect to cares about you so much. It was alls about the sex, and then all of a suddens. . .here I am. It happen so slowlies on its own that I hardlies even notice.”

“We talks about it a bit after de forst time we fucked,” Skwisgaar reminded him. “Though I guess den we just agree dat we don'ts got a label to puts on it and dat it am stupids not to sleep toget'er if we boths wanted to.”

“See, we's past that now. You has becomes everything else to me too, since then. Ja, I see's my slave when we's alone, but when we's hanging out with the other guys I looks at you and see's my boyfriend. Boyfriend is a weaks word to sums up everything we does together, but everything we does together make that a real strongs word. Do you gets what I mean?”

The muscles in Skwisgaar's cheeks tugged upward on their own. 'Boyfriend' was such an odd concept for someone that never explicitly experienced it before. It sounded juvenile, hanging in the air between them, yet simultaneously sweet and encompassing. “Technicallys, a relatesingip am when you's emoskinally and sexwallies involved wit' someone. We kinds of passed de fuck buddy line, huh?”

“We gaves ourself permissions to.” Toki leaned back on his hands. “And I guess this what happened. What's you think? Does you consider me you boyfriend?”

Skwisgaar slid close enough for his knee to graze Toki's thigh. “It almost feel unnecessary to call it dat when we so beyond de point, but ja. If a boyfriend am someone you fucks, cares about, and spend stupids amount of time wit', den I guess dat would describe you.”

“Says it without all the mumbo-jumbo, now.” Toki nudged him.

“You ams my boyfriend.”

Lack of use brought forth Skwisgaar's words as a tumble. Hell, telling Toki how much he loved getting his ass eaten was easier. As if he caught that and agreed, the Norwegian's shoulders trembled with a forceful chuckle. “Looks at us, we's in the most brutal death metal band in the whole worlds and we's  _boyfriends_. Fucks, we so fuckings  _gay_.”

“Nej, is like Moidaface say. Us doings dis make it brutal.” Regardless, Skwisgaar smirked. “Oh well. Gay ams metal. Go homes, if you disagree.”

“Psh, fucks ja it is. I likes to chase someone what wear leather boots and a skull belt, and I likes to fuck him in the ass until he scream. What's brutal about chasings around someone in pink what smells like flowers or some shit? Sweat, blood, and corpse paints is where it's  _really_  at.”

“Don'ts tell Nat'an dat, or else we goings to has to watch him t'ink he gay again.”

“Coulds be fun.” Toki's toes breached the surface of the pond. “I glads we get all that figureds out, but it isn'ts the reason why we comes here.”

“Right.” But a lighter mood made it easier to see this discussion as far less threatening. Besides, officiating their emotional involvement boosted Skwisgaar's confidence that Toki wouldn't compromise everything. A concept as life-changing and major as creating a family required logic and lengthy deliberation. . .that being only if they entered a serious discussion about it.

“I thinks part of the general urge to have kids is that you make something that comes from everything you feels for each other. Love becomes more than you thinkings about the other person all day or having sex or livings together, anything likes that. Love starts running around you home, relies on you, and grows up to repeats the process.” Toki hesitated. “And I does love you, Skwisgaar. I loves you so much.”

It didn't come as a huge shock after how else Toki proved that; hearing it for the first time still jumpstarted Skwisgaar's heart like Nathan's old defibrillator, though. Before he could acknowledge it, the Norwegian carried on. “So lookings at it that way, why  _wouldn'ts_  I want kids with you? I understands the world don't work like that, and that maybes you don't think about it because is something you just nots interested in. But that where I comes from, last night. We aren'ts in no place to reallies even  _think_  about kids.”

Skwisgaar slipped a hand around Toki's elbow. “Just to makes dis clear. . .I never saids dat I wasn'ts interested. Is just not somet'ing I thoughts about. I mean, we  _ams_  in Dethklok, and it am hards to find someones to shares what you describe wit'. And I reallies don't know how goods I would be. I hasn'ts met any of de kids I already has and I don'ts even want to  _t'ink_  about how fuckeds up it am for dem to grows up wit'out a dad. I shapes up like my mom alreadies, as a parent. What I don'ts understand ams why you  _woulds_  want a kid wit' me. Does you ackslies trust me enough to be's half-decent at it?”

“I thinks you coulds, if you try. You don'ts go half-in on the things you care about, so I thinks if you hads a kid you wouldn'ts ignore them or fucks them up.”

“You can'ts ignore dat I gots over a thousand of dem in de world, though,” Skwisgaar told him. “Granted, if I onlies had one or two I woulds probably be's in contact wit' dem, but a thousand kids am a lot. Dere wasn't even dat many peoples in de village I grows up in.”

“DNA don'ts mean jack shit.”

“But nots all of dem are goings to have a step-dads or whatever. Some ams going to be likes me.”

“What, grows up to be in a metal band?”

“Toki.” Impatience leaked into Skwisgaar's tone. “You's downplaying it. I fuckeds up big time and you can'ts ignore dat. Dere amn't anyt'ing I cans even do. I can't spends time wit' all of dem because it ams unspossible, and if I does anyt'ing wit' one den what abouts de rest?”

“If there nots anything you can does about it, then why does you dwell? Is like how you feel so guilties over not comings to rescue me sooner. Sometime you just gots to lets thing go. I forgives you for that, so why can'ts  _you?_ ” Toki countered. “You has done some stupid shit in you life. I nots ignoring that at all. But that don'ts mean you need to deprives yourself of something laters on. You aren'ts the dumbass what puts you dick into alls them ladies anymore, and whats you got to consider is that the ladies what got pregnant from you was probablies going to get pregnant somewhere else anyway. Evens if you didn'ts wear condoms with them, they still coulds has use different birth control. They knews that they was goings to a Dethklok concert and that they mights get backstage to sees us. They signeds the paternity waivers. They knew whats might happen. Dids you ever consider that maybe they  _wanteds_  you kid? They kepts them, after all.”

“Don'ts make it sound like I didn'ts have a fault in dis.”

“I nots. With all the ladies you slepts with, was inevitables that that happens. But you can't shoulders the entire blame either, Skwis. There isn'ts no excuse for being stupids, and I commends you for owning up to your mistakes rather than blowings it off like an asshole. Keeps in mind though that whethers or not you takes care of a kid in the future, nothings about all those other kids is goings to change. They still goings to exist.”

“Wouldn'ts you hate it if you dad hads a different kid what he spends all he attention on, whiles ignoring you?”

“Honestlies, I woulds hate my mom more. You's a rockstar what bedded a lots of ladies. Didn't she knows better than to get mixed up in alls that? Does you hates your dad for nots being around, or does you hate you mom for beings a slut?”

“Hatings my mom for being a slut don'ts make me want my dad less.”

Toki put an arm around the Swede's shoulders. “Skwis. . .I gets where you coming from with all this, and I wish as much as yous that it wasn't something that happened. The fact remain, though. Ares you goings to let that eat you from the inside for the rest of your life?”

“Does I deserves it  _not_  to? T'inks about all de lives I ruined.” Skwisgaar hesitated. “You can'ts deny dat dere were time in you life when you genuinesly wish you were nevers born. You nevers ask for this, so why you gots to be here?”

No twelve year old should ever think about killing themselves. It wasn't even that Skwisgaar couldn't appreciate the consequences, back then. He understood completely the permanence of death; otherwise, what appealed so much about it? Merely escaping whatever situation prompted the thought was pointless, if he only returned to his shitty life afterward.

“I. . .I know,” Toki quietly admitted. “I reallies don't want to think about you evers being in that place, though. Is pretties fucking ugly.”

“I's still here, amn't I?”

“This has turned into some real grims conversation.”

“Maybes now you understands more my view of dis whole t'ing. It would kill me, Toki, if I broughts a kid into de world what had it so shitties he or she dids dat. Dere am a lot of death around us, but  _dat?_  Is like I coulds has prevented it.”

“You still can'ts make everyone happy, though. Lots of people kill themselves what have good parents.”

“I don'ts care about dem in all dis. I cares about  _my_  kids.”

The koi pond's fountain trickled innocuously before them, as if suicide hadn't budged its way into their conversation. Those low points in Skwisgaar's youth brought forth the darkness that he always imagined plagued his mother's house. Some days, sunlight couldn't permeate those windows.

“Is a predicaments, thats is for sure,” Toki finally said. “I don'ts want you to be eatens up by all this, Skwis. You broughts them into this world and they's gonna decide what to does with that. There no ways around that. Cold as this sound, maybe somes of them will be betters off dead. But maybe somes will be doctors, or have a stepsdad what's loves them. Whatever happen, you can'ts control it now. The times for that is past. You can'ts let the guilt take you life, evens if you feel you deserve it. Havings a dad is onlies one part of life at the end of the day. No one thinks about it all the times. They's going to be intelligent little goofballs what are capable of lookings past that. Don'ts underestimate them.”

“You haves a lot of good points, but I can'ts really feels them right now.” Skwisgaar's head relaxed against the top of Toki's. “I tries not to t'ink about dis veries much because it am such a hard t'ing for me. I wants to t'ink dat one day I'll be ables to forgive myself for all de stupid shits I dones. It amn't todays, though.”

Toki disentangled himself so that he could tilt the Swede's chin down. Tenderness and comfort pressed against his mouth, pervading Skwisgaar right through to his heart. Someone still loved him, even with all that out in the open.

“Listen,” the Norwegian's breath warmed Skwisgaar's chin. “Alls that aside, it don'ts change me thinkings about maybe having a kid with you. You gots a conscience—a heavies one, but you gots one. You woulds make a good dad, if you gives yourself the chance.”

“I gots a lot to make up for.” That alone would ensure no future child of Skwisgaar's ever got neglected, personal experience aside. “T'anks you for not letting my stupidity change you mind.”

“You aren'ts a monster,  _elskling._  What woulds really concern me is if you didn'ts worry about that at all.”

“It mean a lot for you to believes in me. Bys the way,” Skwisgaar smiled, pulse in overdrive. “ _Jag älskar dig också_.”

“Really?”

“Ja, I do. Takes it or leaves it—ugh, gross!” Skwisgaar wiped at the inside of his nostril, where Toki stuck the tip of his tongue. “Why you does dat?”

“Couldn'ts help myself.” Arm back around Skwisgaar's waist, the younger man buried his face in the blond's neck. “Thanks you, though. I considers it an honour to be's as importants to you as you ares to me.”

“You must has known dat you weres.”

“Well. . .ja. But is nice to hear. You can'ts deny that.” Toki kissed his ear next. “Much as I wants to takes you to our room rights now, we shoulds get back to the studio. We'll makes tonight special, somehow.”

“You goings to unlock me, or somet'ing?”

“Psh, no. Nice try. Although I does miss sucking your dick.” Toki pursed his lips, gaze on Skwisgaar's crotch. “I thinks about it, but don't gets your hope up. There are plenties of way for me to gets as close to you as I wants without you cumming.

“Come ons, for now. Let's rerecord those guitars from earlier. I don'ts care what Nathan say. They soundeds dildos to my ear, compareds to what they could be.” 


	18. Polyphony

Skwisgaar wound up remaining caged, although the type of lover it transformed him into suited the circumstance. Not worrying about whether or not he reached some end obliterated any sense of urgency; the gentle graze of fingers and a mouth demonstrated just as much for Toki how skin could hum with non-exhausted electricity and heat. When the Swede relaxed beside his lightly panting Master, he couldn't feel prouder for what he'd accomplished.

Regained equilibrium propelled Dethklok through the rest of the demo tracks. The klokateers seeking acoustics nonpareil had yet to succeed, so the band found themselves with little to do in the lull between. Skwisgaar always appreciated a well-earned break, but one smack in the middle of recording only allowed him to experience doubt. Sitting in the room he and Toki shared, guitar in his lap, that's exactly what he did. They had twelve prospective tracks, all splendid blends of classic and modern Dethklok, but what about an _album?_ How often did they go through this, absolutely certain about their creation, only to start over again? The Norwegian's involvement, while altering their process, didn't hamper damand for the highest standard possible. And yet, because this _didn't_ follow their formulaic procedure, Skwisgaar would take deletion far more personally.

Leaving his instrument and nagging thoughts behind, he sought out food and to a lesser extent Toki. Pursuing their own interests and recognizing the importance of personal space, they'd spent the last couple days more apart than together. Skwisgaar liked to at least touch base with the other man around dinner before committing to an evening plan.

“. . .Dood, jest ferget about it. It don' matter.”

“Obviously it does, 'cause you're pissed.”

“Yeeuh I am, but whet's it gonna change? I don' wanna talk about it anymore.”

Never much an eavesdropper, Skwisgaar strolled into the dining room as announcement of his presence. Nathan mumbled something in the silence that followed, unfolded his tightly crossed arms, and passed the Swede. He didn't take the discomfort; Pickles resumed picking at his plate. Maybe Skwisgaar should have brought his guitar along, to fill the interval before receiving his meal. With little else to occupy him, curiosity overtook. “You twos have a fight?”

“Naht rilly. He's jest a fuckin' idiot.”

“What dids he do?”

“Eeehhhh. . .” Pickles gauged him with a cautious look. “Okee, I'll tell you, but keep it to yerself. You know whet it's like down here. Well, guess you don' now, heh. Anyway. . . _stuff_ happened, last night.”

“Stuffs?” Suppressing the majority of his intrigue's manifestation, Skwisgaar allowed one eyebrow to rise.

“We were drinkin', 'n'. . .heh, never noticed how many stories I start widdat.” Pickles briefly grinned. “I dunno. Got talkin'. Fed up wid not gettin' laid, so we agreed ta, ya know, give it a shot.”

“Gives _what_ a shot?” Skwisgaar leaned forward on the table.

“We didn' fuck, or anything. I blew 'im.” The drummer averted his gaze, brow pinching together at the centre. “'N' thet feckin' asshole chickened out. So I _still_ had to jack off, after all thet.”

A klokateer returning with Skwisgaar's meal forced pause. After a bite, the Swede spoke again. “Dat sucks. Makes you feels like shit if you don'ts get not'ing back.”

“Exactly! He feckin' used me!” Pickles' fork clattered against his plate. “But at the same time I can't even be mad at him because I know he ain't gay. Even if he was, dood's gaht too many hang-ups to get his mouth near another dood's junk anyway. I shoulda thought about thet.”

“You can'ts blame yourself, Pickle. Ja, it am a weird situgation because you involves booze, but he shouldn'ts has agreed if he wasn't goings to reciprocates.”

“He said he was gonna.” Pickles shrugged. “Guess thet changed, after he came. Cleared his mind, or whetever. I'm jest tryin' naht to care. I don' want a mistake like thet fecking us up fer recording, 'n' I don' wanna cancel our friender bender. At least he apologized. Close as he gets, anyway.”

Weeks passed now, since the last blow job Skwisgaar received. He never felt exploited the same way Pickles did, though. For how little contrast existed between their respective situations, consent made all the difference in the world. Chastity turned Skwisgaar on, but he'd be livid if Nathan left him high and dry like that. “It ams a crappy situgation. Maybes when you go on you bender, he'll gets you laid wit' a really hots lady or two.”

“Heh. Never needed his help there.” Pickles grinned crookedly. “Whetever. I'm sure we'll laugh about it someday. Or jest naht talk about it. Either way, I'm good widdit.”

“You shore?”

“Yeeuh. I mean, we bin through worse. I'd rather this kind of a fuck up than thet one wid Abigail. Ooohoohoo, thet pissed me off.”

“So long as it don'ts have de same outcome. De band ams doing really goods right now, and it sucks when you two fights. You gettings along am what normal mean, wit' all of us. Anyt'ing else ams fine.”

“Normal's bin changin' a lot lately, wid all us. It's better now thet you 'n' Toki don' bicker all the time. Sometimes thet shit got downright exhausting.” Pickles paused. “So thet's kinda cool. Made it easy to get used to, when we didn' have to worry about whole different kinds of fights to deal wid. Or you guys bein' totally disgusting about it.”

“We kepts it in mind not to makes t'ing weird, too. Is gross, to haves people gropings each ot'er or whatevers when you tryings to have a beer in de hot tub. Ugh, remembers when Nat'an was datings Trindle?” Skwisgaar shuddered. “Couldn'ts escape dat.”

“I guess if you or Toki were gonna date someone, better you date each other than bring another weirdo around. Though I gotta say, I didn' rilly expect thet fer you. It's a good thing, though. Now thet Toki's gaht you all trained up, you aren't such a dick anymore. Heh.”

Skwisgaar slowed in mixing his potatoes and gravy. “Oh. . .dids he tell you about dat?”

“About whet?”

Since Pickles joked, it was easy to play off as such. Before the drummer could really think on it, Skwisgaar diverted his attention away. “How dids you guys even figures out dat somet'ing was goings on wit' us?”

“Ehh, little stuff just started addin' up. Couldn' rilly tell ya somethin' specific thet tipped us off. We were watchin' TV one night 'n' Nate said somethin' about thinkin' you two might be gay fer each other, so yeeuh. We didn' see you feckin', 'r anything. Don' gotta worry about thet, heh.”

“Didn'ts t'ink so.” Skwisgaar paused. “Ams it weird for anys of you? We don'ts talk about it, so it ams hard to tell.”

“You guys're good at keepin' it normal. If you acted like a couple around us it'd be different.”

“We amn'ts—huh.” There was nothing to deny there, anymore. “Dere am more important t'ing dan gettings gropey, when it come to de band. We nevers wanted any of you to bes uncomfortable, if you figured it out.”

“'N' we appreciate it.”

Given the other guys' outspoken natures, Skwisgaar figured he and Toki would've heard any concern or unease they experienced. After receiving word they all knew, every effort possible to maintain favour went exhausted. Of course, similar goals on both sides of the fence helped; the others didn't want to see it and the Scandinavians didn't want to show it. Homosexual behaviour, whether or not it stemmed from homosexuality, blanketed over Mordhaus in form of taboo. Toki accurately predicted the guys wouldn't find it such a big deal once it became a real thing in their home, but even Skwisgaar didn't foresee more than that. Wow, so Pickles _really_ blew Nathan.

The drummer left not long after, so the Swede finished eating and carried on to find Toki. Inability to use his Dethphone created need to ask klokateers where he'd last been seen, sending Skwisgaar in a roundabout way to the studio. Toki's bottom lip pulled in with concentration as his hands drifted over a keyboard. Not wanting to disturb or startle, Skwisgaar kept his distance. It couldn't be avoided, though; one glance up mid-song drew a double-take, then the faint din leaking from the man's headphones ended with the push of a button.

“How longs you been there?”

“Onlies a minute or so.” Skwisgaar pushed off the doorframe. “What's you doing here? Ams a day off.”

“Gettings ready, I guess. Come sit.” Toki pat the stool beside him. “I wants to show you something.”

Maintaining enough distance to faciliate Toki's use of the entire instrument, Skwisgaar folded his hands between his thighs. “Ams dis for de album?”

“Figureds if we was goings all in for it, I mights as well hold myself to that.” Usually Nathan made the call if a song needed supplementary support; if that meant a keyboard, he'd bug Toki ruthlessly to get back into the recording booth. The Norwegian taking such an initiative on their music's direction—displaying the nerve to do so when his ideas more often than not hit the figurative garbage can—compelled Skwisgaar to fixate on the younger man.

Foregoing the headphones, the demo of Chaos Reign Supreme came over the studio's speakers. Only the tiniest tremble in Toki's left pinky indicated any apprehension. Skwisgaar suppressed the urge to rub his back as encouragement, certain it'd only distract. When the appropriate cue came for the Norwegian's fingers to underscore the material, the Swede switched consciously from partner to musician mode.

The tone transfigured from their overly aggressive onslaught. If the blond closed his eyes in order to fully feel the haunting new atmosphere, he slipped back into his room on the other submarine. That shitty music that continuously played—so optimistic—clashed with all its fellow stressors to orchestrate an eerie environment. Reminder for all those instances in which Skwisgaar imagined Toki's presence injected melancholic longing back into his veins. He didn't want hope to come through airwaves, he wanted it to come as a man strong enough to carry him home. Simultaneously, Skwisgaar felt the Norwegian's emaciated waist digging into his hands as he pulled him out of his temporary prison. Did Toki ever imagine the imminence of his rescue, perhaps resulting in similar false expectation? Well, who didn't? Every time Skwisgaar's door opened on the sub, he half-expected his usual handler to have miraculously transformed to the younger man. How often did Magnus ruin the dream of Toki's friends coming to retrieve him, that way?

“Whats you think?” With the track over, Toki's hands rested in his lap.

“Dat gots to go on dere.”

The Norwegian scrutinized Skwisgaar. “I can'ts tell if you sayings that just because you don'ts want to hurt my feelings, or if you reallies mean it.”

“I means it.” The Swede turned more toward the other man. “De atmosphere it make put me in a darks place, and dat am whats we wanted to do wit' dis album. Is why we puts _ourselves_ in a darks place. De guitar, drums, and lyrics all work toget'er to creates a straightforward brutal representations of dat, but what you do foil it in a way to makes it even more desperate.”

Turning awkward under such praise, Toki averted his gaze. “Is what I was trying for.”

“You shoulds record dat and adds it to de track,” Skwisgaar suggested. “It gots my approval, and I t'ink it definitely worth runnings by Nat'an next time we sees him. Ja?”

“If you think so.”

“Brings dis into de recordings booth. I'll engineers you.”

Sitting on opposite sides of the glass like this presented a first, in nine years of knowing each other. Nathan's tendency to hog this chair, not to mention the counterproductive nature of Skwisgaar guiding Toki through what he'd rather do himself, tended to push the Swede off to the side. After familiarizing himself with the tools and making sure he wouldn't accidentally delete something else by tapping Record, Skwisgaar leaned into the talkback mic. “Ams you ready?”

“Whenevers you are.”

Skwisgaar still fiddled with levels and volume when Toki emerged afterward. “Dids you have idea like dat for de ot'er songs, at all?”

“Sort ofs, but nothing that woulds be ready to be recorded. I's hungry, wowie.” Toki rubbed his stomach when it gave a hefty growl. “I beens ignoring this. Haves you eaten?”

“I'll tags along anyway.”

Sitting in the dining room again reminded the Swede of the conversation he'd participated in earlier. Before he could address it with the Norwegian, a hand closed around his.

“Thanks you for being so supportive,” Toki said. “I likes it when we cans get along as musicians. It don'ts happen very often.”

“Ams mostly my faults,” Skwisgaar admitted. “I does respect you as an artist though, Toki. You wouldn'ts be in Dethklok if you weren'ts talented, and you goods at more dan just de guitar. You gots an ear for composing, too. Likes dat song you mades for me: it has a good balance between classic song structure and emotion. You haves a lot of porsonality, and it come through your music. I wish you would shares more of it wit' me.”

“I's always scared you goings to hate it.”

As the rigid layers of Skwisgaar's pride slowly peeled away, he found himself more open-minded to things he would've deemed dildos in the past. Toki's influence taught him to lighten up. He didn't _have_ to be serious all the time, in order to be _taken_ seriously. No one goofed around more than Toki, and when last did the Swede honestly dismiss something he said or did? “Look, if I nevers viewed you as a musician, does you t'ink I woulds has been such an asshole abouts how you play? I don'ts bot'er wit' people who am so fars beneath me they don'ts even got a chance to comes close.”

“That don'ts mean you woulds like the stuff I make, though. It mights not be to your taste.” Toki paused. “You know, I's never understood why you feels threatened like that, Skwis. Evens if I could take you place as lead guitarist or whatsever, it don'ts mean I would.”

“Whats was it called, now? 'Skwisgaar is Am Dick'.”

“Oh, don'ts bring that up.” The Norwegian smiled guiltily. “Okay, maybes I was a bits of a shit sometime abouts trying to make you feels like Toki did. But betweens that book, the Ice Festival, and when you maybes quit the band, I learneds where I belong. So long as you aren'ts a prick and say the rhythm guitar is less importants, then whatsever.”

“I t'ink it has always been clear dat I amn'ts as good wit'out you. I's always needed you. . .evens if I acted likes I didn't. _Especially_ if I acteds like I didn't, since I wasn'ts ever supposed to needs anyone.”

“There isn'ts no shame in it. Nots everyone is goings to let you down, if you relies on them.”

“You's disappointed me befores, but nots anytime recent when it woulds count. T'ings has change, so I can'ts be put out about old history. Though I's probably disappointeds you twice as much.”

“Woulds be hard to believe, now. If someone tolds me back then that we woulds be like this, I woulds has told them to lays off the booze.”

“Is completelys different.” Skwisgaar leaned on his elbow, watching as Toki cut his sausage up into pieces. Funny, how some things _never_ changed. “Hey, quick quetskin. As parts of beings you slave, you wanteds me to be's completely honest wit' you, and dat mean nots keeping secret.”

“Mhm.”

“Whats if it amn't my secret, what someone else tolds me to keep?”

“Depends. . .how juicy is it?”

“Pretties fucking juicy.”

“Then you gots to tells me.” Toki grinned. “But I wills be as far as it go, so thats you don't get in trouble.”

Leaning in conspiratorially, Skwisgaar lowered his voice. “Pickle blews Nat'an.”

“Hows you hear this?” Toki disregarded volume completely.

“Pickle tolds me. . .and it gots me t'inking.”

“What, that if they's getting _that_ frustrateds down here I might lets them borrow you fors a little bit?”

“ _Pff_ , no.” Skwisgaar had no choice about going along, if he at all respected his place and Toki called for it. While the blond had no urge to sleep with anyone else in the strictest sense, being shared like that could be interesting. “Pickle tell me what happen wit' dem, but woulds we ever tell anyone other than Charles what exactly we do? What we ams?”

“They woulds probably think it brutal. Or reallies, reallies weird.” Toki coated the next piece of sausage in ketchup. “Whatsever. Whips are metal. They's pussies if they don'ts agree.”

“Does you ever thinks about telling dem?”

“Wouldn'ts mind to brag to someone, sometimes.”

“Ja,” Skwisgaar agreed easily enough. The healed bruises on his ass, point of pride as they were, would probably count as abuse in ignorant minds.

“Buts is more important to keeps it professional with the other guys. They already gots to live with us knowings we fuck, so I don'ts want to push it. Besides. . .is nice to have something be secrets in our life, whens there so many vultures out there readies to pick everything apart.”

Good point. Still, after earlier, Skwisgaar narrowed their bandmates down on who he'd come out to as a participant in BDSM lifestyle. Pickles was far less repressed than their frontman and bassist, and his easygoing attitude wouldn't blow such a disclosure out of proportion. “As soon as ot'er people know, is hard nots to t'ink about how what you do look from their eye. I woulds rat'er not have dat distract me when I workings to be de best slave I can.”

“I woulds rather it not either.” Toki pushed an empty plate away. “You know whats?”

“What?”

“I looks at you ass, earlier. Looks bare without a couples mark on it.”

Skwisgaar perked; he'd worn his cage so long now that he hardly registered the limitation it caused.

“Since you been so goods, I'll even lets you pick out what I hits you with. C'mon.”

The Swede trailed him close, out of the dining room. “ _Tack_.” 


	19. Freedom

The lights at Skwisgaar's feet, objectively bright as the sun, hardly registered at all in the surrounding gloom. Others illuminated the small army that escorted him down to the ocean floor. Toki wore a similar diving suit somewhere to his right, Murderface further along. The fear that Skwisgaar might collapse under thousands of tonnes of water or burn up from hot rock edged him deeper into the mindset necessary to record. He entered a downward spiral of dread as his fear transcended the track, and the track in kind emphasized his fear.

With the empty echo of the ocean filling his helmet again, the radio crackled. “Good job, Babes. That's enough for today. We're going to bring you back up.”

The weights that held Skwisgaar down disconnected. He slowly floated toward the Dethsub, guided by a handful of klokateers. However relieved he felt when his head broke through the bay, it didn't compare to the first breath of fresh air not delivered to him through a tube.

“We'll move you aside, Sires,” one of the klokateers said. “The others are due to return shortly.”

“Once we get the synths laid over it, I think Darkness is in the bag,” Knubbler told them all when he and Nathan arrived. “Only three tracks left! Who's excited?”

“I'm more excited to be outta thet fuckin' cave.” Pickles rubbed his arms. “Doods, did ya bring any booze down here?”

“Here you are, Sire.”

“That's it for now, then?” Nathan asked the rest of the band. “I'm satisfied with calling that a night.”

“Oh, but waits!” Toki exclaimed. “Befores you go anywheres, isn'ts there something you all wants to say to Skwisgaar?”

“Toki, I askeds you not to do dis—”

“Shush, or I start singings. Is an importants day!”

“What, your birthday, or something?” Nathan shrugged. “Uh. Happy birthday then, dude. I dunno.”

Skwisgaar sent a stink-eye at Toki with the grumbled wishes of their other two bandmates. Birthdays still weren't observed amongst them, and while the Swede would celebrate in private quarters, why did Nathan, Pickles, and Murderface need to be involved? Considering the worst as over, Skwisgaar cast the Norwegian an exasperated look when he bullied them all to follow him to the dining room.

“What's you doings?” he whispered. “I didn'ts want any of dis.”

“I nots gonna make them sing for you, or makes you blows out candles. Who doesn'ts like cake?”

Reservation stemmed from far too many disappointments. Up until Toki wormed July thirty-first out of him, Skwisgaar usually spent his birthday alone. Whatever stupid shit he and Toki wound up doing after that—whether passing out on the lawn or stealing one of Nathan's cars and Murderface's driving gun—marked a decent commemoration. On his twenty-seventh, with no partner-in-crime at his side, Skwisgaar hit rock bottom. Being strung out on crystal meth, fucking for days straight, and backing up his toilet after flushing everything in a frenzied state of paranoia seemed a different lifetime. At least his twenty-eighth, quietly spent in his room with a friend and fond reminiscence over a pile of chocolate, counterbalanced it.

As for this one, it didn't shape up too badly yet. Nathan plunged his finger into the lemon poppyseed cake to taste the frosting, Murderface sent a klokateer to fetch ice cream, and Pickles soused his with a drizzle of schnapps. With the occasion remaining low key, Skwisgaar relaxed. It wouldn't be the first time they sat around together and stuffed their faces with dessert.

“How old're you, anyway?” Murderface asked. “Don't even know, come to think of it.”

“Twenty-nines.”

“Rilly? Thaught you were over thirty by now.”

“We're the same age,” Nathan reminded them with a thumb jabbed in the Swede's direction.

“Dood, I thaught you were only seven years younger than me! I'm lookin' at thirty-nine, 'n' yer birthday's in November, so ain't thet maybe eight in difference? No, wait. . .”

With them distracted and Murderface attempting to budge his way back into the conversation, Toki nudged Skwisgaar. “Not so bads, is it?”

“Nots really, I guess.”

Blond hair was pushed aside and a mouth hovered near Skwisgaar's ear. “This isn'ts all I had planned. When everyone's done we's gonna go back to our room. I gots a gift for you.”

Anticipation pooled behind Skwisgaar's best poker face. Maybe, after over a month caged and only weekly prostate massages to clear his plumbing, Toki decided he should have a break. While he still had sex on a daily basis, so long without an orgasm formed a figurative tumour behind the Swede's pelvis. He could tell how hard it was going to hit upon release, too. After nearly six weeks, he'd be lucky if he even survived such rapture.

As a rule, they couldn't leave before the others. It would be too obvious. While Pickles overlooked cake for booze, Murderface and Nathan fought for the rest right down to the last piece. Did Toki intend for this? Could he sense Skwisgaar's heel tapping fervently against the floor? The blond enjoyed the others' company, liked that they got into the celebratory swing for his sake, but there came a point when they needed to move along. Thank Odin, they dispersed with a suggestion to seek out more booze. Before they decided to just have some brought, Toki silently led Skwisgaar down the corridor.

“Sit when you done,” Toki said upon arrival. He hovered near the door as the Swede's boots came off. “I didn'ts want you to stumble upon it before today, so I hids it somewhere else. I'll be's right back.”

That defeated Skwisgaar's suspicion of what his gift might be. Curious anyway, he situated on the edge of the bed with his back straight and hands folded in his lap. His chin lifted when he heard the Norwegian return down the hallway.

Lack of a lavishly decorated present and chirpy attitude deviated the scenario from anything Skwisgaar associated with Toki on his birthday. Rather, the younger man pulled a plain box out of the small duffel bag he toted. “I woulds has given you this sooner—probably shoulds has—but I's too damn sentimentals about birthdays. I gots big plans for tonight, and this is onlies the beginning.”

Skwisgaar got a glimpse inside before clapping the top back down. “Ams you serious?”

“I wouldn'ts give it to you if I wasn'ts.” Toki rubbed his lower back. “Go ons.”

The scent of new leather with the slight accent of metal clogged the Swede's senses. Being collared for fun came up the first time they ever experimented with power dynamic, but Odin did it ever mean more now. Heft in his hands simultaneously weighed down his very core.

“What's you waiting for? Holds up your hair.”

The collar's inside contrasted its austere exterior, soft and form fitting around Skwisgaar's neck. He received no consultation as to how tight it should be; when Toki found his preference, the slide and click of another small padlock secured it. Arms followed around his middle, then a nose in the nook above his collar bone. “You needs to understand how serious this is for me. I wish this coulds be an all the time thing, but we's going to haves to be happy with you wearings it just when we's alone. I expects from now on when you undress thats you will put this on instead.”

“Ja,  _Mästare._ ” Not surprisingly, a lump formed in Skwisgaar's throat. How could he  _ever_  convey to Toki just how much this meant? Having earned such a bestowal gratified him through and through. He hardly even registered that he situated on all fours, head lowered and his lips pressing repeatedly to the Norwegian's boots, until short nails gently raked down his back. Every strike, degradation, and suspension of will led to this very moment.

The blond raised his head with a tug on the collar. “I'm glads you like it, but I repeats: this was onlies the first part of tonight. I's going to test you.”

Skwisgaar would subject himself to the intense oceanic pressure, if told. “Okay.”

“I's doing this more for you, than me. Something I takes very serious as your Master is thats I haves a front row seats to what you either strugglings with or avoidings, and is my responsibility to makes you face it. You mights not like it when it happening, or especiallies after is over. What I needs you to know is that I haves your best interests in mind.

“Come intos the bathroom.”

Skwisgaar basked in quietude, whatever preface he received. All he could feel right now was excitement to please and follow through. While the Norwegian ran a bath, Skwisgaar sat where he could see his reflection. Admiring his collar was more difficult than he anticipated; he hardly recognized the man staring back with wide eyes ready for the next order. So  _this_  creature consumed him when his submissive tendencies arose. A ghost lingered whenever Skwisgaar inspected his body for marks after a particularly rewarding session. Then again, maybe for the first time in his life, Skwisgaar saw himself as he truly was.

“Hey.” A snap of Toki's fingers drew his attention. “Gets in.”

Left to his own device, the Swede assumed he was meant to clean up. Toki moved in and out of the bathroom, piling stuff onto the counter. Confused though unquestioning, all Skwisgaar could do was occupy himself with the appointed task.

“I only means for you to soak, but this works too.” Toki pulled Skwisgaar's hair back in order to tie it at the nape of his neck. “Ares you nervous at all?”

“Just curious.”

“I wants to keep it that way. Lets me get you a towel.”

Drying off, the Swede furrowed his brow as he examined the tiny workstation assembled by the sink. Wax? What hair did Toki plan on removing from his body? He kept his pubes and ass hair trimmed as per the other man's requirement, no hair grew on his back, and no reason existed for anywhere else to be stripped. A pile of wax paper foiled the notion that perhaps Toki meant it for different use. Much as he wanted to ask, Skwisgaar kept his mouth shut.

“Ares you dry?” With a nod, Toki took the towel away and spread it over the centre of the bathroom floor. “Sit.

“I decides I want something about you changed, so I's going to do it,” Toki stated as answer to the questioning gaze he received. “When's we done here, you aren'ts going to have anymore hairs on you leg, stomach, or armpits.”

“Why nots?”

“Because I say so.” Toki chuckled. “Why, does its bother you? Woulds you rather I didn't?”

“You nevers make a fuss about my body hair before.” While neither he nor Toki boasted very much, as a brunet the Norwegian's was more noticeable. “And I keeps myself tidy.”

“This isn'ts for me, remembers,” Toki reminded him. “I's doing it for  _you_.”

“I don'ts recall a time I evers wanted my leg wa—”

A slap silenced him. The other man still smiled. “Shuts up, whore. That don'ts mean jack shit to me. It going to happens, whether you like it or not, so I would suggest you sucks it up.”

Futility lowered Skwisgaar's back to the floor, from where he stared at the ceiling. Fuck. Already, anxiety pooled in the pit of his stomach. He really, really didn't like this. Hot wax spreading down a strip of his calf didn't help, nor did Toki hesitating for too long when the Swede expected him to yank it off. It didn't hurt as much as he expected, although that didn't cease his panic sweat. Just as if his mother had magically appeared, Skwisgaar's stomach ached in a similar way.

“You's doing good.” Toki kissed his knee when he got that far. “Keeps it up.”

“Ja.” Skwisgaar's voice shrunk.

Toki switched to the other leg, leaving Skwisgaar to numbly feel over the Norwegian's work so far. Why did this have to happen? Some things just needed to be left alone. Here was why; despite Skwisgaar's jitters, he folded his leg over his crotch. The hope such a move might go unnoticed was immediately thwarted. He swallowed hard following another laugh on the Norwegian's part.

“What's this?” Toki held his legs open. “Why you gettings hard? You likes it?”

Yes and no struggled too valiantly for the Swede to settle.

“Aw, looks at you, struggling so hard against you cage. How cute.” Toki pulled on the device. “So tells me the truth, now: haves you really never thoughts about beings humiliated this way, or haves you just not  _wanted_  to?”

“I—I don'ts know,” Skwisgaar managed in barely a whisper. Never facing his effeminophobia further than testing the water left him so confused as to why it would evoke this deep a reaction. Something as innocuous as the hair being ripped from his legs simultaneously touched that which he feared and craved.

“You scareds of it, and I can understands why. You associates anything abouts being a woman with shame.” Toki moved above Skwisgaar's knee now, with the hot wax. “And its has gones on too long, because it holdings you back. That means you cans forget about your cock and ass. Tonight, I goings to use your cunt howevers I please. And if you goods, I mights even play with your clit.”

Cheeks burning and mind toiling to bridge the divide between excitement and consternation, Skwisgaar's legs opened further. He couldn't look away from a certain spot on the ceiling when the Norwegian giggled. “Is thats really what you want? Is kinds of gross, if you thinks about it. You's a man, aren'ts you?"

Skwisgaar raised his hips against Toki's fingers when they grazed his entrance. A scoff only made him throb.

“Typicals. Can'ts you even wait for me to finish up?”

Frustration afflicted the Swede next. If he could  _only_  let go of this pit in his stomach, he'd enjoy this to the full extent. Toki degraded him like this before, stirring up lechery by treating his ass like a mere hole, so why couldn't this degree of it simply overtake all the bad? Why did some bizarre shit he went through as a child hold on? This shouldn't affect him so profoundly. Rather than humiliation send as much blood as possible between his legs, he should experience no reaction. What did it mean about him? He liked having a dick, never once longed for a vagina or breasts, so. . .why? Why did every tear of hair on the way to his aching centre cause his thighs to further warm internally? By the final rip, Skwisgaar was one final shred of self-control away from begging Toki to fuck him dry on the bathroom floor. He deserved how much it would hurt.

Instead, a quiet groan grazed his vocal cords as the Norwegian's hands skimmed over soft skin. “You nots going to make noise likes that. Is too manlys for you. If I does something you likes, moan like the bitch you ares.”

Iron grip on his balls offered Skwisgaar the chance to try it out. The resultant warble echoed against the stark walls.

“Better, but keeps practicing. I's nearly done here.”

The thin trail of blond hair leading up to Skwisgaar's bellybutton disappeared with one pull, then Toki pat his armpits dry before stripping those next. Feeling far too bare, the Swede's arms shook as he pushed himself upright on command. The younger man returned the garbage can to its normal place and set the contraption with all the unused wax back on the counter. After unplugging it, he dug about again in his duffel bag and tossed something onto Skwisgaar's lap. “Come outs when you get these on.”

All the heat concentrating in the blond's cheeks drained. “J-ja,  _Mästare_.”

He earned a peck to the top of his head. “ _God pike_. I wills be waiting, so don'ts take too long.”

Alone, the Swede worked his bottom lip. How could he  _ever?_  Peeling the plastic apart, silk brushed against smooth thighs. The last time Skwisgaar wore stockings, he'd cut them up along with his hair in order to discourage his mother from her behaviour. Somewhere, he now found the cojones to roll them up like he was taught and simply get it over with. At least Toki picked something sensible; other than the elasticized part hugging his mid-thigh, the nude tone merely darkened his legs a couple shades.

Pointedly avoiding the mirror, he poked his head through the door connecting to the bedroom. Toki laid on his stomach on the bed. As soon as he saw the Swede, his feet lifted off the blanket and a grin overtook his face. “Come ons, then. Let's see.”

Skwisgaar's emergence and subsequent hugging of the wall elicited a fit of giggles and enthusiastic kicking. Should the blond feel upset or lightened by that?

“Comes here, rights now.” Toki sat up on the edge of the bed and pat his knee. “Fucks, you wasn't supposed to makes them look good, Skwis.”

Unsure what else to say as he carefully perched on the other man, a quiet “ _Tack_ ,” would have to suffice.

“Seriously, you don'ts know what this do to me.” The rise Skwisgaar sat on offered a clue. “I loves it when you look so uncomfortable. How longs ago would you has called red, huh?”

“Pretties early,” the blond admitted.

“Looks what you can do when you let someone who knows better takes care of everything.” Toki's teeth pinched Skwisgaar's earlobe, jolting him further into a fluster. “ _Du er min lilla ting_ , for sures. How oftens does anyone ever gets as lucky as me? I gots a whore that'll bends over whenever I says, a tight little cunts to fuck, big soft lips to wrap arounds my cock. . .”

A hand crept between Skwisgaar's legs, pulling on his cage again. “Cross your legs. I wants to see how it look.”

“What's about—?”

“Tucks it in, geez.”

Skwisgaar gave it his best shot, but the polycarbonate restricted him from managing it comfortably. Instead, he withstood another bout of giggles as everything in between tightly pinched.

“I coulds do this all night.” The tips of Toki's fingers snuck under the stocking's elastic strip. “I fuckings love watching you squirm. Evens better, watching you fights this with yourself.”

With a drop of his stomach, having not anticipated being moved so swiftly, Skwisgaar's back found the bed. Trembling legs pulled up in desperation for some sort of contact between, as teeth and fingernails alike bit at his torso. Skwisgaar didn't care anymore, if his cage thwarted what only the friction of skin could provide. He didn't even care if he got off. All he possessed right now with his pride cast aside was a cunt worth fucking. In order to fulfill that, he needed to please the other man. His first attempt, with the flick of a tongue against one of his nipples, was transforming his usual groan into something softer and longer.

“Better,” Toki commented. “Gets this shirt off me.”

It landed on the floor beside the bed, and something cold touched Skwisgaar's stomach. When Toki lifted his head, a flash of silver caught the Swede's eye.

“What? You thinks I care abouts you stupid clit? Mights as well be locked up forevers, for all I care. I don'ts even know why I keeps this key. What's the point?”

“You don'ts need it,” Skwisgaar spurred him on. “I gots a cunt, isn'ts that good enough?”

The Swede earned a flip onto his stomach; a quick zip preceded hard flesh moving between his cheeks. “Is for me. Ifs you deserved to gets off, I woulds let you. No slut what gets turned on by this kinds of shit should evers get anything more than a milking.”

Trapped between brute weight and the bed, Skwisgaar couldn't adjust the bad angle his cage set him at. Discomfort only worsened his thrumming skin.

“Seriously, you disgust me. How coulds anyone ever respect you? I mights as well fuck you, leaves you with a twenty, and lets you go on your way. Ifs you got paid for every time a dick's been in you ass, you wouldn'ts even need the money you gets from the band. You mights as well as just stayed in Göteborg.”

Another moan escaped Skwisgaar as unlubed fingers reached the first knuckle inside him. His grip on the blanket tightened. “Ow. . .”

“Fucks off. I does what I want.”

Toki couldn't push any further without some kind of help. The Swede pressed back anyway, regardless of what it might accomplish, and earned a slap on the ass. “I loves it when you a slut for pain. Whats you think I's gonna do, stick it to you like this?”

“Don'ts got a choice if you wants, do I?” Skwisgaar grinned. “I'ms not even a real porson.”

“Just a piece of fuckings chattel,” came confirmation. “But you's  _my_  chattel. So I tells you what.”

“Hm?”

“Tells me how and why this all turn you on, and I'll uncage you.”

“You wills?” Trusting the man wouldn't lie, Skwisgaar dropped his forehead onto the bed. This wouldn't be easy, speaking aloud about such deep-seated issues. “I needs to feel like I's nothing, because how I thinks about gender am so fuckeds up. If I's nothing, I can'ts have problems. If I's a whore, all I gots to do is makes myself useful. If I's not important, than it don'ts limit you on what you cans do to me. Dis turns me on because. . .because. . .”

“Because you sicks of being scared and you wants to take it back.”

Skwisgaar nodded, too drunk on endorphins and adrenaline to fully comprehend that summation. “I needs to. If  _I_ can'ts be free, then  _you_  can'ts be free wit' me. Likes tonight. I shouldn'ts hesitate about  _anyt'ing_ , if you wants me to do it.”

Along with the vacancy of his hole came a kiss to his tailbone. “Ares you readies to do that, then? You wants to reclaims what makes you ashamed?”

“Ja,” emerged more as a whine than anything.

“Then lays on you back again.”

The disengaged padlock went onto the chain with its key, then set aside. Thanks to Skwisgaar's swollen nature, the polycarbonate chafed as Toki eased it off; he couldn't even remove it in one go without risking Skwisgaar cumming prematurely. Even that much attention nearly did the man in. With it gone, the Swede attempted to close his legs. Six weeks of wear associated the cage as an extension of his body. For how naked Toki left him within this whole scene, that overdid it. Firm pressure on the insides of his knees undermined his effort, and while Skwisgaar initially struggled, he eventually went limp under his Master's unwavering gaze.

“You aren'ts hiding yourself from me. Nice try.”

The Swede fixated on the ceiling again. Even his fingers, folded together over his stomach, were pushed to the sides. Toki guided him to a place far too deep in his psyche to be so utterly exposed.

“You's kept this to yourself for too longs.” Toki's voice softened. “I wants all of you, and thats include this. I shoulds be able to puts you in any clothes I like and you won'ts tries to stop or argues with me. You haves been a good slave tonight by only needings minor correction, so I commends you on that.”

“ _Tack_.”

Toki pulled one of Skwisgaar's legs up onto his shoulder and nuzzled the silky material. “I thinks you underestimate how powerfuls you are right now. I mights tease you, but you puttings me out of my mind. A man—or woman, whats have you—in charge of they sexuality is beautiful. You's fighting so hard with yourself rights now, and I feels like you's the closest you ever beens to finally achievings that.”

“You don'ts find dis de  _least_  bits weird?”

“Whats was it you tells me, when I caughts you getting blown by that guy? Somethings about how we shouldn'ts be ashame of the things what make us feels good?”

“Dis come from a weird t'ing, though.”

“So? Everything comes from a weird thing, if you reallies think about it. You's just more sensitive abouts this, is all.”

The Norwegian shifting drew Skwisgaar's attention from the ceiling. His arms habitually encircled the man's neck, although necessity formed a grasp. Emotional turmoil became easier to handle when he didn't explore his shame on a stage. How could he feel embarrassed though, when eagerness translated to greedy hands, eyes glassed over by lust, and being dry-humped through a layer of denim?

Skwisgaar squeezed his hip. “Why don'ts you just takes dem off?”

“I nots ready to moves away from you yet.”

“You goings to cum in you pants if you amn'ts careful.”

“I does what I wants.” Regardless, Toki stood up in order to shuck his last article of clothing. His disheveled hair and fu manchu encouraged Skwisgaar, even more so how the man's eyes widened to drink him in. Instead of pulling into himself, the Swede held the unfurled position Toki preferred. Slaves weren't supposed to have power, but what else could this be? Running fingers over his stomach, down his legs to where the stockings started, and dipping between his legs to graze his entrance pulled Toki along like a marionette. “I thinks this might be what religion is  _supposed_  to feels like.”

“I's found dat too.”

Precum rubbed off on Skwisgaar's thigh as the mattress groaned beneath two bodies again. “Seriously, you gots no  _idea_  how you looks to me right now. I gots all of you rights in front of me, and. . .I just couldn'ts be happier for that.”

“Shows me, ja?”

Toki groaned against the older man's shoulder as lube, retrieved from a fold in the blankets, held the heat between his cock and Skwisgaar's hand. The evening's balance between love and lust shifted again, briefly sating search for an end as tenderness nestled them together. Relishing fullness in every sense of the word, Skwisgaar kneaded the younger man's back. All Toki's effort broke something inside him; the slightest of touches maneuvered him as effectively as voice. His torso developed a magnetized relationship with the Norwegian's fingers, anticipating every push and pull microseconds before they happened. Without entirely realizing how the switch in their position came although aware he slipped under Toki's spell, Skwisgaar raised his hips in order to be reentered from behind.

“You'ves been so good, tonight.” Toki wrapped his hand around Skwisgaar. “I thinks you deserves this.”

The first downstroke shot through the Swede's brain like a bullet. The disorganized mess of his nervous system formed duality as Skwisgaar became outwardly conscious of a deluge pouring from his mouth. When he passed the old familiar precipice, violent ripples cascaded throughout his entirety. Had he even gotten there? This wasn't typical; yes, an arrow of pleasure departed thanks to Toki's grasp, and his muscles internally gripped the Norwegian, but then why didn't it fade away in lieu of fatigue? Had this been put off so long that one orgasm couldn't cut it? Or did it simply stretch itself out? Fingers slipping into the back of his collar boosted him toward lethargy. All at once, every ounce of energy he possessed either at hand or in storage depleted.

He shifted about thanks to helping hands. Toki said something about a mess when Skwisgaar reached for the blanket, leaving the Swede to shiver as a new one from the closet replaced the old. Feeling about as helpless as in the bliss following a hit of heroin, he curled up against the other man's chest.

“How you feels,  _elskling?_ ”

“ _Förlåt? Jag tror att jag har glömt hur man talar engelska._ ”

Toki snorted. “ _Bra eller dårlig?_ ”

“ _Bra. Mycket bra._ ” Skwisgaar scratched where the stocking's elastic left an indent in his skin. When he tried to push it off, Toki smacked his hand away.

“Humours me a bit. Leaves them on.” 


	20. Surface

Being uncaged for the night allowed Skwisgaar to sleep through where a boner would've woken him up. Groggy and disoriented, everything hitting the forefront of his memory preceded disquiet. Was he allowed to take the stockings off yet?

To give himself a reason to, he snuck out of bed and ran a bath. The redness of his legs due to waxing faded, but he returned them to that shade with fervent scratching. Only when they hurt did he stop. Rather than sprawl out and relax in the water, Skwisgaar rested his forehead on his knees. Where did he even start, on figuring last night out? He could only react the way he always did up until now, with blinding panic. Was it too early to start drinking?

The Norwegian yawned when he ambled in later. “ _Morgen_.”

“Mhm.”

After flushing the toilet, Toki sat down beside the bath. “How you feelings?”

“I don'ts know.”

“Freakings out?”

“A bits.” Understatement. Skwisgaar's stomach ached so badly he couldn't unfurl his body if he wanted. “I don'ts know what to t'ink.”

“Lots of peoples feel that way, if they explores what terrify them through sex. Ares you ashamed for likings it?”

“I don'ts even want to admits if I did. I just wants to forget de entire t'ing happen.”

“Skwis, I was theres with you. Why woulds you be afraid to admits it to me? There isn'ts anything wrongs with it.”

“Says _you!_ ” the older man's head rose. “How woulds you like it, huh, if I whippeds you? You t'ink it am always good to poke at t'ing like dat? You _know_ what it like, to be's a little kid and haves no control over de fucked up shits you parents do. I hasn'ts felt dis sick since it fuckings _happen!_ Why woulds you put me through dat again? And don'ts fucking say you dids it for me, because dat ams _bullshit_.”

“Is thats what you want to hear? Fines, I dids it for myself.” Toki remained calm, arms crossed. “I like seeings you all fuckeds up. Is funny, watching you gets turned on by something weird.”

“I trusted you wit' what my mom did, I _trusted_ you!” Skwisgaar couldn't be naked right now. More vulnerability than necessary only shattered him further. Toki watched boredly from the bathroom doorframe as the blond dressed and tugged at his collar. “Gets this off me, rights now.”

“No.”

“Toki, you does it right this minute!”

The only reaction Skwisgaar earned was a purse of the younger man's lips.

Lividity balled the Swede's hands into fists. He couldn't go anywhere until then, and Toki damn well knew that. What if the other guys saw it? What if Skwisgaar had to tell them what happened, as well as the depths he went in search for freedom? Unsure what he could even do as the space closed between them, Skwisgaar functioned solely on rage for being exploited so drastically. Unfortunately, his advance ended with a dodge, fist in his hair, and shot of pain through both his knees. A cheap attempt at hitting the Norwegian between his legs only yielded his cheek being pressed against the floor.

“Lets me go!” he yelled. “I don'ts want to do dis anymore. Lets me _go_.”

“You listens, and you listens good.” Instead, Toki tightened his grip. “You's acting like a petulants child right now.”

“I wouldn'ts feel like dis if you didn'ts make me!” Skwisgaar flailed helplessly, unable to angle his arms in a way to connect with the Norwegian. “I fuckings _hate_ you! Takes dis collars off me, I don'ts want to be your slave no mores.”

“That's bullshits and you know it. You aren'ts even mads, nots at me anyway. Just fuckings calm down and deals with this likes an adult.”

“No! I don'ts want to!” Attempt to slither away failed. “ _Jag vill inte!_ ”

“Is that whats you told your mom too?” Toki adopted a derisive tone. “When she wouldn'ts quit?”

“ _Dra åt helvete! Fan ta dig!_ ”

Despite how spiritedly he thrashed about, Skwisgaar's limbs leadened when relinquished. Taking the opportunity, he shoved Toki. His arms moved through jelly, as if his muscles atrophied to the size they boasted in his youth.

The Norwegian took whatever he managed to dish out. Suddenly exhausted, Skwisgaar leaned against the end of the bed. It still existed in his mind that he should destroy Toki the way _he'd_ been destroyed, but he had no energy left after inducing no reaction in the other man. It took more than he already had to turn his face away when pulled into an embrace. Overpowered, the Swede stewed in weakness. “Why ams you doing dis to me? Just lets me go, please. _Snälla_.”

Toki ignored him yet again. All of Skwisgaar's anger turned to hopelessness. With no choice but to rest his rug-burned cheek against the younger man's shoulder, he simply tolerated the contact.

“Fucks you,” he whispered as a gentle rock evoked heavy eyes. “ _Fucks_ you.”

“ _Elsker deg også._ ” Toki's lips rested against his temple. “Is okay.”

A shake of the head did no good. Whether by word or physical force, Skwisgaar couldn't make the Norwegian go away. His limbs didn't feel so long anymore; arms easily enveloped him and he clearly saw the small, plain bedroom he once lived in. This time, as he hid away after his defiance, he didn't feel utterly alone against the world. He didn't worry that his mother's stomping footsteps downstairs might make their way up here for round two. Even if they did, he'd be okay. That's what kept repeating in his ear, and Skwisgaar obliged to believe it. If _he_ could be subdued so easily, then what chance did his mother stand?

“ _Förlåt mig_ ,” he whispered.

Thumbs ran over Skwisgaar's cheeks, gentler than how his mother used to clear his tears away. The blond much preferred which face he saw when he opened his eyes; a smile trounced the old scowl set behind red lipstick. “There isn'ts no need to apolgesize. You dids great.”

“I'ms a mess.”

“Who cares? How you feel?”

About as calm as last night's aftermath. Inclined toward sleep, Skwisgaar nestled his face in the crook of Toki's neck. A kiss to his ear further slowed his heartrate.

“Skwis, I knows this whole thing upset you, but I's never been prouder. It takes a lot of guts to face something likes that. I woulds rather you punch me abouts it than tries to drink it away.”

“I shouldn'ts have done dat, though.”

“You didn'ts hurt me, so whatsever.” Toki shrugged. “I gets it. I's been there too often.”

“I don'ts really want to give my collar back, either.”

“Is hard to control what come out of your mouth, when you freaking out.”

Skwisgaar found the energy to bring his hand up to Toki's arm. “I owes you so much for puttings up wit' me. Seriouslies, who else would stands for dis crap?”

“Haves you evens been listening to me, whenevers I talk to you?” Toki asked. “I loves you, no matters what. There's nothing wrong withs all of this, excepts that your mom subjecteds a child to that bullshits. You's going to keeps exploring it, one, because it loosens the power she hold over you, and two, you likes it. And there isn'ts anything at all wrong with that! Haven'ts you noticed that you likings to be humiliated come from you attempting to minimize what you finds bad about yourself?”

“I. . .” For all the knowledge Skwisgaar claimed about sexual behaviour, personal involvement hampered objectivity. “Is kinds of like being whipped, or calleds a slut. It calms me down.”

“Exactly. So whens put into that context, is it really that big a deal to be feminized? Wouldn'ts it be nice not to gets a stomach ache whenever you gets reminded of it?”

Without a doubt. Skwisgaar _hated_ getting pulled back down into his childhood. He'd had enough in his teens, though didn't possess the fortitude then to confront it. Drugs, alcohol, women, music, and fame could never make it go away, either. At least now, where he lacked the strength, someone else compensated.

“I haves a duty as your Master to protects you from bad things. Sometimes that mean yourself. I's not goings to allow you to hold yourself back anymores. You deserve to be's all that you can.”

A groan emerged from the depths of Skwisgaar's lungs with warm lips against his own. Muscular arms tightening reinforced sense of security; here, nothing truly _could_ harm him. Whatever Toki did to push his limits, Skwisgaar had to trust in the results. They spoke for themselves. Maybe he'd react again like today, but at least he had the freedom to.

“And whats would this be about?” Toki referred to the hand that slipped into his boxers. “We don'ts really have time befores we got to meets the guys. . .but lays down. I hasn'ts done this in too long.”

Even with docility and friction against the carpet, Toki still needed to hold down Skwisgaar's hips. The Swede didn't care if he sustained more burns for his enthusiasm, nor that his knees ached as he reciprocrated in the shower. Stepping into the studio after switching his collar for his cage resulted in a psychological increase of height. No dread hushed him as he readied to return to the ocean floor, he gave it all he could, and when the band listened through their final product a week later he didn't worry at all that Nathan would trash it. No one said a single word; the frontman leaned over his knees, Murderface's frown lessened, Pickles maintained a crooked grin, and Toki scratched at the gooseflesh that rose on his arms.

Rather than a click from the Pause button, Nathan let the needle run its length on the gigantic screen. Skwisgaar spoke first, fingers folded confidently behind his head. “Ja, burns it on water and sends it to de label. Dat ams de one.”

“Fuckin' brutal,” the frontman commented.

“You agree?” Leaned against the wall with folded arms, Charles reminded them of his presence. “Is this the album?”

Nathan tapped his finger thoughtfully on the panel. “Yeah. I'm good with it. Let's get out of this fucking ocean.”

Beers cracked open along the couch; around them, the Dethsub minutely trembled as hundreds of anchors reeled in. Even Charles joined the band and producer in celebration at the drummer's insistence, managing a couple sips and round of congratulatory handshakes before the control room called for his presence.

“Gahd, it's never felt so good to be _done_ ,” Pickles stated before starting his second beer. “I can't fuckin' wait to get home. First thing I'm gonna do is sleep in my own bed.”

“Ams you guys going on your friender bender?” If the frontman and drummer displayed any tension between them, Skwisgaar would've caught the redhead on his own to inquire. Judging by the resultant crooked grin, it didn't matter.

“Heh. Yeeuh, we already started plannin'. We're gonna start 'er up in Canada. I gaht a dood in Edmonton thet makes the best moonshine you'd ever feckin' drink. He's always got a barrel of swish on hand fer me too, to take on the road.”

“Whats is swish?” Toki furrowed his brow.

“Naht fer amateurs!”

“Oh, great,” Murderface butt in. “Scho you two're going to leave and it'll juscht be me and _them_ at Mordhausch.”

“Whats you mean, 'you and us'?” Toki shot back. “You thinks just because they's gone we goings to fuck where you could see? Keeps dreaming, pal!”

“Ams you so insecure abouts you sexualities dat beings home alone wit' us make you quetskin it? Dat ams pretty bad, dude.”

“It doesch _not_ make me inschecure! Asch a matter of fact, I don't give a _schit_ what you two do. Scho fuck you, and fuck _you_.” Murderface flipped them off in kind. “It'sch actually about _time_ all thisch repressched attitude schtopped. I've been schaying that for yearsch and no one ever lischtensch to me!”

“You nevers brought a guy home.”

“Heh, he never braught _anyone_ home.”

Murderface narrowed his eyes as everyone else snorted into their beer. “Why do I have to be gay for that, huh? Have you conschidered that maybe life in Mordhausch would be a lot easchier if we weren't scho schcared about everyone thinking you're into dick? Thosche two are, scho what? At leascht they've been getting laid while we've been down here.”

“Murderface, I gaht a serious question fer ya: whet's the difference fer you, between here and home? Ya ain't gettin' laid either way.”

“I'ves lost track abouts what they're arguing,” Toki whispered to Skwisgaar.

“Or who ams on what side,” the Swede agreed.

“Still, is goings to be good to get home. I can'ts wait to go outside. The gardens is nice on here, but it don'ts compare to something real.” Toki nudged the older man. “I mights make you come for a run with me.”

“ _Pff_ , I amn'ts a runner. I'll just slows you down.”

“Maybe so's, but I woulds appreciate you company.”

Skwisgaar hated that little smile. Even outside his position beneath the Norwegian, he had difficulty saying no to it. If Toki wanted him to go he'd probably wind up doing so, but the Swede would drag his feet as far as possible. “I t'inks about it.”

“How cutes, you thinks you got a choice.”

With spare time on their hands again, the last reserve of alcohol got tapped by the band. A late night translated to a slow start in the morning, when general laziness interchanged with packing. Toki passed the duty along to the Swede, preferring to lounge on the bed and flip through a magazine he'd brought down. “You know whats I just thoughts about?”

Skwisgaar folded another of the Norwegian's shirts, still warm from the laundry. “Whats?”

“We won'ts be sharing a room, anymores.”

“. . .Huh. Gots kind of used to dat.”

“Does you ever thinks of makings it permanent?”

“It kinds of is, isn't it?” Skwisgaar shrugged. “You comes to my bed whenevers you feel like it, we lives in de same house, and is nice to haves a place what you cans call you own. No's offense, but I ams kind of lookings forward to havings my own room again. Much as I likes being around you and havings you come visit, ands all.”

“Is a goods point. I needs my own beds to goes to, in case you start snoring so loudlies I can't sleep.”

“ _Pff_.”

Toki lobbed his magazine at the blond, missing by inches. “Ifs we weren'ts in a band and didn'ts live at Mordhaus, woulds you want to lives with me?”

“Ams you speculatings, or suggesting we quits de band and moves away?”

“Use your brain, dumbass.”

Skwisgaar threw the magazine back at the laughing man. “I suppose I woulds.”

“Where woulds you want to live, if you coulds pick anywhere in the world?” Toki's hair hung over the edge of the bed as he rolled onto his back. “Where woulds be ideal?”

“Uh. . .somewheres back north, in Scandinavia. Maybes around Båtsfjord. Or Svalbard.”

“ _That_ fars north?”

“I woulds like to lives far away from other people, and I miss de north sometimes. Whens was de last time you even sees de northern lights? Is weird, to grows up in a place like dat and den comes to somewhere likes America. Remembers Florida? Ugh, time slow to a crawl when it feel like summer all years round.”

“How longs did you live there, anyway? It wasn'ts a year I liveds there before we moveds again.”

“Cames over when I was eighteen, so a couple year longers than you. Didn'ts mean to stay. I was on tour wit' Fuckface Academy whens I met Nat'an, Moidaface, and Pickle, dey practicallys kidnap me, and here I ams.”

“Sounds like something they woulds do.” Toki paused. “Hey, comes here a minute.”

Skwisgaar situated before him. “Ja?”

“You saveds my life by bringings me into the band, I hopes you know. I was goings nowhere fast. I didn'ts even have anythings to eat that night, ifs I didn't get in.” The man smiled. “I owes everything to you. Maybes you been a pains in the ass, but I loves you anyway.”

“What, ands you been an angel dis whole time?” Being mindful of the Norwegian's hair, Skwisgaar leaned closer to kiss him. “But dat makes dis all de more satisfyings, don'ts it?” 


End file.
